Let's Face the Music and Dance
by mrs.milfoy
Summary: The Malfoys - fresh from trials and sentencings after the war - visit a popular magical resort. Each with his or her own agenda to fulfill, in time they must face the music and yes - Dance. So yeah, there's going to be dancing in this fic. And incest. And golf. And references to escapist 80s film. Enjoy my little literary summer vacay.
1. Dad's Decision

Chapter One: Dad's Decision

Draco was late arriving to breakfast. "Sorry."

Narcissa glanced at him as he sat. "Good morning, darling."

"Doesn't hurt to be punctual, son. Even if it's for your old mum and dad." Lucius said pointedly. "Not to mention your scones have gone cold."

The young Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Good morning, mother."

The slight in greeting did not escape Lucius, but he withheld any commentary, glaring between mother and son. He reached for the jam pot and his eyes lingered on the Daily Prophet lying like an accusation in the center of the table.

Not one of them had lifted the paper. It was a sore festering there, ripe with their faces gracing its front page. **MALFOY TRIAL ENDS** it read. There was no need, really, for any Malfoy to read it, aware as they were of their own trials ending. They were each more than aware of their own outcomes, the slaps dealt by fate.

Narcissa Black Malfoy: not guilty of involvement in Death Eater activities. No sentencing.

Draco Lucius Malfoy: guilty of indirect involvement in Death Eater activities, casting of Unforgivable curses and assistance in criminal magical trespass; sentenced to six months wandless and muggle exposure therapy. Which was a convenient sentencing partially as he was already wandless. He'd met the sentencing with a bowed head and defeated sigh. At least it wasn't Azkaban...

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy: guilty of direct involvement in Death Eater activities, casting of multiple Unforgivable Curses, criminal magical trespass, destruction of Ministry of Magic property, unlawful imprisonment, inhumane treatment of unlawful prisoners and a host of other variegated phrases that - as Lucius reported - made him "sound far worse" than he actually was. (His wife had coldly and quietly disputed this sad defense.) He was sentenced to one year wandless (also convenient) and muggle exposure therapy, numerous magical community service projects and reparations totaling an "ungodly amount." His words. Not the Wizengamot's.

Draco had been overall pleased with the outcome. In fact, he'd secretly been thrilled his father would have to hemorrhage funds to cover mudblood hospital fees, Hogwarts' rebuilding and house-elf sock-fittings. The younger Malfoy had only (in truth) been disappointed that his father hadn't received a life sentence to Azkaban. Or better yet, the Dementor's Kiss.

Draco split a (now cold) scone and rammed butter into it. No, he was destined to live with his father interminably, it seemed. _Oh, well._ His eyes cut to his mother.

The Malfoy matriarch was sitting (literally) pretty. There was apparently something to be said for feeling up Potter and lying to the Dark Lord's noseless face. So while the scarhead had technically spoken for the entire family, he'd doubtless spoken most verbosely for Narcissa, dropping flowery phrases like "the lie that will never die" and "above all a mother" and "certainly vested in the victory of the light."

Draco wasn't really certain about all that. His eyes narrowed as he considered the witch who'd birthed him, watched her neurotically crease the serviette in her lap. Had she really been invested in the victory of the light? Or was she more out to protect her own fold? Perhaps someday he would ask her.

Either way, Potter had spoken. And Saint Potter's word was righteous. An eerie feeling crept up Draco's left arm. _Perhaps Potter fancies my mum! _He watched her set her teacup delicately back into its saucer before touching her throat, as if she was checking that things unsaid there remained unsaid there. It was a lovely throat. _Gah. _He shook his head. It hurt from days of dread and droning. _So long as it's all behind us now._

Lucius broke the uncomfortable silence, steepling his fingers in finality. "Now that all of this late business is behind us..."

Narcissa stared openly at her husband, silently - brutally - contesting his statement. A breakfast table duel. Four rashers of bacon were No Man's Land and the lesser wizard yielded with a downcast gaze and gulp, qualified his announcement. "What I mean to say is, now that _our trials_ -" He shot his wife a pointed glare. "- have ended... I think we should consider a..." He paused. Chose his words carefully. "A sabbatical."

"You mean we should go into hiding?" Draco asked.

"_Not_ what I said."

Narcissa smirked at her son. Leave it to her darling boy to speak the ugly truth. She caught Lucius catching her simper and sobered. Raised her brows at her husband expectantly. Again he looked down. Her thrill of victory hardened her nipples. A fulfillment translated to sexual. How sad her life had become... "What do you suggest, husband?"

Formality clinked on the edge of Lucius' teacup. "I was considering Mont Blanc." Draco scoffed and Narcissa's shoulders slouched. Lucius rolled over his family's reactions with his usual disregard. "As it is located within short distance of various...muggle habitats, I believe it will be advantageous to satisfy our muggle exposure requirements while keeping us convenient to the magical community I must..." His mouth worked. "...service." He sniffed. "I've made my decision."

"_Your _decision," Draco derised. He gestured to Narcissa. "Why should mum suffer for your mistakes? Why should I?"

"Draco," Cissa breathed. She saw war approaching and she'd just survived one, so she hardly wished to witness another. "Your father does make a valid point regarding the muggle exposure therapy."

Lucius looked positively taken aback that his wife had supported him, but his glare at Draco was one of dare.

Draco however, was not looking at his father but at his mother. Her eyes asked for peace, blue and soft and begging. She knew he could never refuse her a thing in this life. So he surrendered. Cast his serviette to the table. "Please pass the damned jam."

The jam - indeed damned - was witness to treaty.

"Good then." Lucius successfully deluded himself into believing he'd won. "I think it will be refreshing for us to...take in some mountain air."

"Bunch of old wizards talking about the price of potions and witches comparing shoes all day. Lovely." Draco spread the jam on his scone.

"I recall you being rather fond of Mont Blanc, Draco." Lucius' lips thinned.

"When I was five."

"This isn't purely a pleasure excursion, son!"

"It's purely a Malfoys-avoid-taking-the-piss excursion, father."

"Enough!" Narcissa's hands pressed flat to the table and halted hatred. She shook slightly. "I'm weary of argument and more weary of weariness. Mont Blanc it shall be, Lucius. Draco?" She gave her son a tight smile that was more of a threat. "Please try to make the best of the situation. We all must."

He couldn't tolerate seeing her upset. Blamed his father and vowed to rectify. "Yes, mother." He nodded - a bow of apology. "Perhaps I can use the time to study for my NEWTs."

"Excellent." She took a deep breath and pushed away from the table. "Excuse me." She swept away in a rustle of silk.

Draco and Lucius remained locked in quiet disagreement. They heard the manor doors bang heavily and knew that the witch had gone to her plants, her solace. They also knew (each in his own guilt) that they had driven her there.

Lucius sighed. "Son..."

Draco waited a breath, but when no more from his father's lips seemed forthcoming - "Please excuse me as well, father."

So the father watched the son go. The doors banged again and Lucius rubbed his forehead. Always against him, those two. _My own family. _ He sullenly tapped the tea tray. _My own fault._

Draco rounded the side of the manor briskly, shooing peacocks away when they flocked seeking scratch. He stopped at the east wing patio, watching the witch in the distance. She sat on a stone bench by the shimmering lake, picturesque. Then, sensing his presence, she turned toward him. He took her glance as an invitation and joined her. "Shove over."

The bench was technically too small for the two of them to inhabit together, but Draco rather enjoyed the softness of her hip caressing the hardness of his hip. And he knew she loved him, so he could rib her. "Ow!" She chuckled once he'd settled in. "You're too big for this now!"

"I've grown, mum." He stretched an arm across the seat back and squeezed her. "So have you."

She gaped at him, scandalised. "Are you saying -"

"I'm saying you've put back all the weight you lost these last months." He said gently. "And it's quite becoming."

She blushed. Tisked. "Draco..."

"Narcissa." He grinned. They watched white light flicker across the surface of the pond. Two swans glided by, painting a perfect picture. The Malfoys smiled at the idyll...until one swan mounted the other.

Draco grimaced. Narcissa cleared her throat. They shifted uncomfortably, each looking at something in opposing directions. Once the mating swans had drifted on, Draco broached the subject. "So. Mont Blanc."

Narcissa sighed, dropped her head into her hands. "I know that you aren't fond, son. But -"

"It's a good idea." He leaned forward to regard her. "Father's right about that much, I suppose." It literally ached him to admit this.

"May I finish a sentence today?"

"Hm? Oh, I suppose."

"I suppose things could be a great deal worse for us, lovie. We could be -"

"Rotting in Azkaban?"

Her fingers stung a bit when they slapped across his lips. "Or we could be scowled at in the streets wherever we go. Prisoners in our own home. Subjected to horrendous humiliation. Which do you prefer? Because I think I will gladly accept a private wizarding enclave where the beds are comfortable, the air is crisp and the food is excellent."She removed her hand.

Draco had long since acceded to the inevitable. "You like the shopping," he accused.

"No! I _love _the shopping." She elbowed him. "But I truly believe this will be good for us."

"And I'm _going_." Defense bled into his tone. He gazed at her sharply. "But know that I'm going for _you_. Not due to any decision father might have made on behalf of this family. But for _you_."

She met his eyes. Her smile fell, replaced by a rather serious frown. "And I thank you for that. Listen, son..." She placed a hand on his knee and he placed a hand atop it. "I know that you resent your father's propensity for making decisions without consulting us. I do, too. But now is not the time to have dissention among us. We need to support one another."

Draco lifted her hand to his lips, not once looking away from her face. The skin was soft against his lips. "I don't think we've ever had a problem supporting one another, mum."

She considered his words, searched his silver eyes. Finally, she reached for his face. Pulled his cheek to her lips. "No. No, we haven't," she murmured there. Draco didn't withdraw his head. Narcissa leaned into his embrace. He kissed the part in her hair, and light from the pond's surface danced on mother's and son's pale, peaceful faces.

**AN: **Allow me this piece of pure escapism. Life can be stressful, harrowing, fatiguing, depressing and downright unfair at times. Selfishly, I need some respite right now. Welcome to my retreat. And by the way, if you haven't seen the movie _Dirty Dancing_, you'd better watch it now. Because the Malfoys are about to have the time of their lives. Playlist coming soon, so watch for it on my profile.


	2. Mont Blanc Carte Blanche

Chapter 2: Mont Blanc Carte Blanche

The one truly wonderful thing about Mont Blanc was that even in the summer - when Wiltshire became a broiling valley of hovering heat waves - this mountainside retreat remained a bastion of cool breeze and occasional misty rain. Narcissa was pleased to see there was just such weather when the family stepped from the overlarge floo in an elaborately windowed marble hall.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!" An already annoying little wizard in pinstripes hurried toward them. "I'm Archibald O'Hare. The new activities director here at Mont Blanc. Welcome, welcome, welcome!" He was shaking their hands one by one.

Draco was smirking and Narcissa knew why. "Behave." She hissed as Lucius and Archibald led them from the floo.

"Seriously?" Draco asked. "Archibald? O'Hare?"

"Shhh!" The activities director was quite bald. In fact, his pate gleamed in the chandeliers' bright glow. But Draco's amusement was contagious, and she was grinning when her husband rounded on them with packages. Mother and son attempted to sober their faces.

"Ah. Maps." Lucius announced. "And...keys. More for Draco and myself...obviously." The fact that he was wandless was still a very sensitive subject, but one he was growing less self-conscious about every time he had to address it. Draco, on the other hand, still held onto resentment like a shield and flushed when he took the velvet bag from his father.

Archibald made no mention of their wand situation, although like most of the wizarding world, he was assuredly aware of the Malfoys' recent sentencings. Narcissa was just as aware of the stares they were receiving from passersby. _Even here..._

"We've placed you in a bungalow!" Archibald gestured excitedly out a nearby picture window. "They're far more spacious than the cottages and have a spectacular view."

_And far more isolated, _Draco thought. He stared up the side of the mountain to the bungalow they would inhabit indefinitely. It seemed even here, the wizarding world would like to shun the Malfoys.

"Why don't you and Draco apparate up?" Lucius was talking to Narcissa. "See that the elf has delivered our things? I need a few words with Mr. O'Hare and...will be along."

Cissa nodded, catching Draco's eye. "Shall we, darling?" She extended a hand for side by side apparation, but Draco declined it gracefully. Embarrassing, having to side by side when he was perfectly capable of apparating on his own.

"I'll walk up if that's alright, mum."

She blinked at him. Seemed to gauge something. Then her lips pursed decisively. "I'll join you. The weather seems bracing."

Draco smiled relief. She was an insightful witch. Graceful, too. Her heels clicked confidently on the marble floors and soon they'd stepped onto a stone patio. The mist was light and cool on their faces. Felt wonderful, really. Draco looked down at Narcissa's closed eyes and upturned face. He folded her arm inside his own and they set off toward winding stairs set in sparkling limestone.

"Beautiful here." Narcissa breathed. "Always was. The clematis is blooming!" She fingered a spidery purple bloom as they passed it.

"Sounds like a disease," Draco groused.

"Don't be a smart arse."

"Quite a bloody climb."

She grinned. "It's a sad day when a lad your age lacks the stamina necessary for climbing a few stairs."

He gaped. "You cheeky -"

"Narcissa Malfoy!" They drew up short and looked about. "I would recognize those calves anywhere." Several meters away, lounging on a beveled patio, was a witch. She was smoking a cigarette and shouting at his mother. Draco looked to judge Narcissa's expected offense and was surprised to find her smiling widely.

"Carolyn!" Tugging him along, she left the wide main staircase in favor of the private one leading up to this Carolyn's lair. The witches met halfway. Draco was further surprised to see his mother drawn into a hug and double cheek kiss. "Gods, you look fantastic."

Carolyn gave Cissa a long once-over. "I'll say the same for you, gorgeous. And that's saying a lot, considering." Her dark eyes flitted to Draco. "Don't tell me this is that same mischievous little dragon who once crashed his toy broom into my sunroom?"

_Oh, Merlin help me._ His mother was laughing, clearly enjoying this minor humiliation. But she looked lovely with pink cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"It is."

Carolyn appraised him now, and Draco felt perfectly justified in appraising her in return. She'd long, black hair swept into a loose chignon, a round face that was deceptively sweet, and a form nearly as diminutive as his mother's. There was something quite French about the look of her, though her accent bespoke a posh, pureblood British upbringing. Perhaps it was the fact she was wearing a silken dressing gown this late in the day. She winked at him and he balked. "Well, well. If I didn't know you were your mother's son, I might ask you to take a look at my etchings..."

"Carolyn!" Narcissa stepped possessively in front of him.

The other woman just laughed. "Alas, I'm afraid I respect this witch far too much to endanger her son's tender youth. Tempting as it may be." She reached up and boldly pinched his cheek. "Lucky boy!"

"Draco, this shameless harlot is my friend Carolyn Howe." Narcissa gestured needlessly to Carolyn, who smirked.

"Your friend?"

"Your lovely mother and I met here before you were born, Draco." Carolyn invited them to her patio. "And we have been fair weather resort friends ever since." The mist turned to a drizzle and Carolyn shrugged. "And not so fair weather. Sit."

"We can't visit long, Carolyn," Narcissa said. "Lucius will be at the bungalow soon. Looking for us."

Carolyn sat at a wrought iron patio table and lit another cigarette. Draco was surprised to see his mother take one when it was offered. "Bungalow, eh?"

Narcissa propped a hip against the table edge. "Bungalow." She cocked a brow at the other witch.

"Hm." Carolyn opened the silver case again and offered Draco a cigarette, as well. His face brightened and an internal war broke out. Narcissa's eyes cut to Carolyn, but swung back to Draco. When her son politely declined, Cissa smiled pure self satisfaction. Carolyn's brow quirked. "As well behaved as ever, I see. At least when mummy's involved."

Draco's nostrils flared. The accusation of being a mummy's boy didn't settle well for the young man. Sensing this, Narcissa pressed her hand to his back. "Draco. Let's make our way up to the bungalow. I'm certain your father will be along, soon."

He relaxed under her touch. Hackles fell one by one. "Right." He spun on a heel away from Carolyn's patio without a good-bye.

"Very much like his father, I see," the dark witch murmured.

"Hardly." Narcissa shook her head. She took a last, lingering draw of fragrant clove and exhaled smoke. "Don't taunt him so. Draco is more sensitive than Lucius or I, Carol."

"Forgive me." Carolyn nodded solemnly. "And I hope he will as well?"

Narcissa moved toward her son. "In time, I'm certain. I'll see you soon?"

"Indeed. Do come Thursday evening, at least." Carolyn called out. "Card night. All the old bitties will be here to pass silent judgment on one another during a round or two of Witch's Rummy."

Narcissa smiled and waved backward to her friend. Doubtful she would attend the card game. She'd had enough judgment for one lifetime. Draco was already a few paces ahead of her on the stone walkway. "Wait for me," she called. "My legs aren't as long. And I'm nearly an old hag now."

Draco scoffed as she approached. "Hag," he muttered. "You're a loon. And your friend's an opinionated twat."

"Draco!" She sighed as they resumed their climb. "Carolyn is just...jaded."

"I'll remember that next time you tell me I'm being an impossible arse. I'll say, 'never mind, mum - I'm just jaded.'"

"Oh, stop it." She huffed. They climbed in silence for a time. "Gods damn. We should have taken the floo."

"Yeah. Sorry." Draco agreed. Then they were laughing. Breathless and laughing, they reached the cliffside bungalow. Stopped by a tall cypress to gaze up at it. Draco's laughter increased. "I hate to say it mum, but I'm really not impressed."

Narcissa dropped the hand pressed to her mouth. "Perhaps there was a mistake?"

Draco couldn't contain a snort. "I'd say there are several mistakes at work here."

But then the screened front door banged open, startling the mother and son. Narcissa practically climbed Draco at the loud report, buried her face in his shoulder. "There you are." At the sound of Lucius' voice, she relaxed - just - and stepped away self-consciously.

Lucius approached them. "Lovely view," he announced. "And the air is thinner here. Good for the circulation."

Draco scowled. "It looks...like a muggle hovel."

The bungalow was simple in design. Whitewashed wood with an ample screened porch that jutted on stilts over a stony drop. There was a second story, it seemed, with large screened windows. Flowers here and there attempted to make it more inviting, but they seemed sun-starved at best. A hint of stone patio peeked from behind the dwelling.

Lucius drew up at Draco's comment and Narcissa tensed. She dreaded a coming fight. Determined to intercede on behalf of peace and her own sanity. "I think it's lovely, husband. Very relaxing."

Draco shook his head, mildly betrayed, and headed for the door. Lucius' jaw worked. He seemed to collect himself. "I'm trying, Cissa. Truly."

"I know! I know, darling." She patted his arm gently if like a stranger. "And so is he. We all are, Lucius."

"Why is he so damned stubborn?"

Narcissa smiled gently, tugging her husband toward the bungalow. "Probably a trait he inherited from you. Those hibiscus are lovely!"

Lucius' face was one of tasting sour cream when they stepped onto the deck. There were rocking chairs and a few tables there. "It _was _ a muggle hovel," he admitted with some humor.

"Hm?"

He gestured her into the little house. "Apparently, this part of Mont Blanc was only recently acquired from the neighboring muggle retreat called Mount Tawel."

"I see." Narcissa smirked, gazing around the modest if expansive front room. "Well. I suppose even muggle acquisitions have their place." She touched his face, stepped closer to him awkwardly, too uncertainly for a spouse. "It should be perfect then. For you and Draco especially. And perhaps the two of us can benefit as well?"

Consciously, she brushed her breasts against his chest, pure suggestion. "Does your tour include a bedroom?" She whispered. Her hands feathered over his neck as she dropped a loose embrace over his shoulders.

Lucius tensed. Clearing his throat, he gently removed her hands from his shoulders. "Perhaps later, love," he muttered, stepping away. "Here. I'll - I'll show you the kitchen. Very sunny."

Narcissa's cheeks burned. There was an odd tingle in her arms and fingers - a sort of rejection vibration. Her mouth worked a complex series of tics. She looked up to follow her husband, but froze in mid-stride. There in the shadow of the stair was Draco. His eyes were glints of silver, tiny knives cutting her out of a paper scene. He'd seen everything. Pride tasted a bit bitter. She whisked away after Lucius with something stuck in her throat.

They settled in like people who had never known one another. Mother and father took the largest bedroom of the three downstairs, while the son opted to overtake the entire upstairs loft. Narcissa was sending shrunken clothing flying into their opposing wardrobes while Lucius sat sulking on the overlarge bed. "Rather unfair, wouldn't you say?"

"What's that, darling?" She met his eyes in a wardrobe mirror.

"The boy taking up all that space? He's barely a twig."

Cissa chuckled. "Well, you should have called it then. Besides, I thought you preferred this view."

"Hmph." The picture window overlooked a mountain lake and a few meters below, a sprawling muggle retreat . "I suppose I do."

_Hope springs eternal_, Narcissa thought. She swayed to her husband, climbed onto his lap and straddled his thighs. Her linen skirt rode up to reveal thighs she still judged to be relatively firm for her age. "I think it will be very lovely at night. With the stars reflecting off the lake? And all of those little cottages lit up down there..." She leaned for a kiss and won a mouthful of white cornsilk.

"Right." Lucius was pushing her none too gently from her provocative perch. His fingers danced off of her skin as though it burned him. "I have some papers to peruse," he said. "O'Hare has suggested I might...get involved in some muggle activities below." He didn't look at her disappointed face. "He gave me a schedule and some maps to review. So I'll just...er...see to that." He veritably scurried down the hall and away.

Narcissa wrapped a hand around a tall oak bedpost. Pressed her hot face to it. _No sense in crying. Don't know why I should be upset. There was no marriage to save in the first place. _ But it still stung terribly. _If he can't treat me like a wife, he could at least treat me like a woman._

Draco was settling in without the assistance of magic. Narcissa had appraised his living conditions with some surprise after levitating his trunk up the stairs. The space was rustic and sparse. A modest bed, nightstand, wardrobe and two simple chairs. In a far corner, a sink, bathtub and toilet were partitioned off with a silk screen. Shocking perhaps that the Malfoy heir would make such a non-princely selection of his own volition, but what had truly attracted Draco to the space was the abundance of windows. Once they were opened, the air was the luxury, cool and tinted by wild honeysuckle and lavender.

After his mother enlarged his trunk, she'd gone to arrange her own things and no doubt his father's. Draco's lip curled at every thought of Lucius Malfoy - so deep was his resentment toward the wizard. And then to witness what he'd seen on the landing...

_How dare he push my mother away like that?_ The anger seemed misplaced somehow - or even like jealousy. It gnawed at the back of the young man's mind. _He should be grateful. He'd be rotting in Azkaban were it not for her. We both would. _When he opened the creaky door on the aged wardrobe, a few bright moths flew out. Several of the drawers were stuck and he had to wiggle them about noisily.

Then there was the trouble of keeping his shirts folded when he transferred them, or figuring how to re-fold them when they inevitably fell askew. "Bastards!" He cursed, frustrated with the linens and life in general.

"I was unaware your shirts were fatherless."

The dry commentary floated from his doorway and he looked around the open wardrobe to his re-appeared mother. "They are," he assured her. "Just as I am."

"Draco..." She looked so sad. Even sounded sad.

More hurt on her face. And this time he'd caused it. "I'm sorry, mum. I'm sorry." He tossed a shirt carelessly into a drawer. "It's so fucking..." He kicked the wardrobe and stalked to his bed, pulling at his mussed hair. He sat as though his strings were cut.

"Oh, lovie." She sat beside him. Knew the true source of his frustration. Lucius' mistakes and ignorance aside, her son was living without magic, and she could imagine how difficult that was. Hope naked on her face, she reached for Draco's shoulders. _Please don't push me away._

Unlike her husband, her son folded into her embrace as desperately as his shirts. "Mother," he murmured against her breast.

"I know." She rubbed his back. His arms around her were the sweetest reminders of her necessity. She needed to know she was needed, appreciated, loved, _wanted._ And as dubious as it seemed, she could accept those things from Draco more easily than she could from her husband. "Only a little while longer," she assured. "You're so strong, Draco. You can do this." His weight shifted toward her and she toppled back onto his bed. "Ooph!"

He fell with her. Flopped into the thick white duvet. Exhaustion from their journey caught up with him all at once and he wanted a lie-down. He didn't release his mother. She felt...too many things in his arms. Soft and warm, welcoming and comforting. Her breasts were plush beneath his cheek - delightfully full, firm - and he resisted the temptation to nuzzle them. _Hardly proper. _

A cool mountain breeze blew in through the screened windows. White tulle fluttered like a lullabye. Narcissa sighed. His hair was fine in her fingers. She closed her eyes. _So tired. _She smelled honeysuckle and lavender and Draco felt like a dream she didn't want to wake from. So she simply drifted further into his embrace, further into him, and further into sleep.

**AN: **The Mont Blanc in my story is completely fictional to my knowledge. I situated it in Wales for no particular reason - only that Wales is a lovely, gorgeous country with lovely, gorgeous people and seems suitable to the Malfoys. Also Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in the Alps and western Europe. Again, nothing to do with the resort I've created here. Just didn't want any confusion. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! You dears humor my whims so sweetly...


	3. The Mashed Potato

Chapter 3: The Mashed Potato

Draco awoke under thick downy duvet. The calls of nightbirds slipped in through his windows and he realised it was dark out. "Good gods." A groggy mumble. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, then his bare chest. _Bloody embarrassing, that. _ He took a leisurely stretch, listened to his spine crackle. _Grown man's mum tucking him in..._

But he smiled just the same. She'd finished unpacking his trunk, too. His books were stacked neatly on modest desk and he'd no doubt his clothes were precisely folded and hung in the wardrobe. On the highbacked chair by his bed, his shirt and belt hung. She'd undressed him and put him to bed. _Lovely._

He slipped out of bed. Curled his toes against cool hardwood floor and adjusted his usual waking erection. His stomach growled. He pulled on the discarded oxford and padded down the stairs toward the kitchen. Hopefully, it had been stocked. He was rounding the corner to the kitchen when he heard voices behind him, muffled, wafting from the side patio.

"I didn't know how to tell you," Lucius was saying tightly. Draco's bare feet allowed him to lurk through the shadows of the front room to the patio's opened French doors.

"So...so you wait until _now_?" Narcissa's voice was watery if tightly controlled. It was as close to hysterical as his mother ever got and Draco tensed in concern."Now when we've left everything behind to try to - to save our reputations, our place in this society, our - our - our _marriage_, Lucius!"

Lucius sighed. "You have to realise how difficult this is, Narcissa. How utterly debasing it is to tell my wife that I can't - can't be a proper husband to her."

"You should have told me before now!" She shouted. Draco didn't recall her shouting since his Aunt Bella's stay at their manor. "I've thought it was _me_, Lucius! That you no longer found me -"

"Well, I hope it restores your obviously withering self-confidence, darling," Lucius seethed. "To know that it's my traitorous physiognomy that's preventing my plowing you into the sheets as a husband should."

"Oh, Lucius -"

"So I'm quite completely defunct now, my precious flower." Lucius continued angrily. Draco heard a chair scrape against stone and stepped further into the shadows. "I apologise for further ruining the vacation you never wanted to take with this inconvenient news. But if you would like to arrange separate sleeping quarters, you could -"

"I said no such thing, Lucius! I don't want -"

"Well, perhaps I do!" Heavy footsteps approached quickly and Draco watched his father storm through the front room, a blur of black cloak and blonde hair. Silence. Draco's hands curled into fists at his side. He bit his lip. Uncertainty ached. _She tucked me in..._

He stepped away from the wall and - hands in pockets - walked onto the patio. The witch sat to the little stone table there, a candlelit dinner untouched before her. The champagne still bubbled and Draco's heart threatened to break. _She tries so hard. _And even though his father's apparent impotence was hardly chosen, it still gave the son one more reason to hate...and to hide a grin of justice. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked innocently enough. _Best not to let on I know anything._

She snapped out of a reverie and plastered on a smile that didn't reach the eyes. "Draco. Of course not. Are you hungry?" She gestured to the space Lucius had evacuated.

"I am. But it looks like you have plans. Is there anything left in the ki -"

"Sit, Draco." Her eyes downcast. "My plans were for naught, it seems."

He sat. The flickering candles highlighted a few wet streaks on her pink cheeks. "Mother. Are you alright?"

"Absolutely. Yourself? Did you sleep well?" He nodded. She drained her champagne flute. Reached into the ice bucket and poured another. "Drink up."

"Mum." He reached for her pale hand still on the table. Small as it was, he'd felt such strength in it. He spoke very quietly. "I heard."

"You heard?" She blinked. Didn't look at all happy.

"Yes. By accident! I promise I wasn't eavesdropping."

"Oh you weren't eavesdropping, but somehow heard? Heard what, pray tell?" She was shaking a bit and he didn't care for the nervous things her hands were doing.

"I just...heard father saying..."

Her brows rose, anticipating his answer. When it didn't come fast enough, she supplied darkly: "That he's _unmanned_?" She coughed an ironic laugh. "I imagine that tickled you well enough."

"Don't say that." Draco felt his lips thin. _Why is she being this way?_ "Mum, I feel bad for you!"

"Why?" She demanded. "Because I have to spend the rest of my days married to a useless effigy of husbandry? Well, don't feel bad, son. Because now that you're older I can finally tell you my marriage has _always _been this way. At least now I'm sexless because the bastard can't get it up. Far less stultifying than playing second fiddle to the newest tart hired on as a Ministry apprentice." She stood, drained a second champagne. Draco gaped quietly, shocked. "If you'll excuse me, dearest, I think I'll have a constitutional."

He heard her heels click across stone. "What the hell?" He murmured. "What did I say?" He picked up his own bubbly. Sipped. It was good. "My parents are insane." He looked down. She'd cooked some sort of buttery shrimp thing with green beans and mashed potatoes. Her mashed potatoes were amazing. He grabbed the fork and began shoveling potatoes, staring thoughtfully past candles and into the night.

It was dark, but the stone pathway was set about with glowing lamp posts. The magical light brightened as one approached, a particularly genius bit of charm work. Not that Narcissa needed to see her way. She had concluded quite suddenly that she didn't care where she went, that she didn't care if she was lost forever in the mountain wilds.

_Perhaps it will simply swallow me up,_ she thought. _This mountainside. Perhaps the fairy folk will take me. Or I'll be eaten by a bear or a puma or a...something horrible. _She squeezed her eyes against tears, but they escaped anyway, as tears are wont to do.

It shouldn't have surprised her, she supposed. She'd known for some time that her marriage was failing. And it had never truly struck her as a matter of great consequence until recently. When, during their trials, she had looked to the ceiling of a holding cell and prayed to the goddess, "Get me through this. Save my family. And I will make all right again."

And Harry Potter had spoken. So she owed a debt to a deity, and Narcissa Malfoy didn't take debts lightly.

She'd been supportive of both her men. A tender listener and compassionate nurturer. She'd held them both through the night terrors and nervous sweats, ignoring her own paralysing nightmares or barely sleeping for days at a time. When the Wizengamot denied them another house elf, she'd been the one scouring dried goblin blood from between her stubborn floorboards, boiling Merlin knew what out of priceless carpets. She'd cooked, sewn, and stepped between their insolent spats and for what?

To be told the marriage she'd hoped to resurrect was indeed a terminal case. _Why is it even so bloody important? It's not as though we were particularly amorous before now. And surely there's some charm...or some potion that could... _She stopped suddenly. Sighed. Knew it was a futile line of reasoning. She scraped her arms hard her wet face and made a moue of distaste at the snot there. She looked around.

The lamp posts had disappeared and it seemed only the moon and bright stars were lighting her way. "Hm." She looked down, turned to travel back up the stone path. But it too, was gone. "Oh."

She fussed at her lip. Rubbed her arms. _Perhaps I didn't mean all those things about being lost in the mountain wilds. _

But she was still on a trail, of sorts. Just not the one she recognized. The stone was far more broken and the path overgrown with bits of greenery here and there. Also, it seemed she was at a fork.

Craning her neck, she barely made out the sheer white stone of Mont Blanc's safe and well lit foot pathher above . _Good._ But she looked again at the slightly overgrown path. _What have I to go back to? A sympathising son and a sexless sullen husband? _She felt a need to explore.

She set off on the slightly overgrown path. It looked direct enough. She could easily follow it back if it grew dangerous. It seemed to follow the edge of the mountain on a slightly downward slope. Looking over the craggy drop, she could see the lights of the muggle retreat below, closer than she'd imagined.

One large establishment in particular rested at the very boundary of the muggle encampment, and it was the most brightly lit of all. Getting closer, she made out muggle figures inside through the many open windows. And she heard... _Music? _

Yes, the further she walked the clearer the music became. And soon, she'd reached the end of this path, too. It stopped at a bridge. She could tell because she could see Mont Blanc's complex wards shimmer when she approached. She knew she could see through, and even pass through if she so desired, but she could only imagine what the muggles saw when they looked up toward Mont Blanc.

Before the bridge was a sturdy oak. For a moment, she lurked beneath its enormous spread. Lightning bugs danced around her, and upon further study, she realised the muggles were dancing, too. Or...something like dancing. She squinted. It was certainly like no dancing she'd ever seen.

In fact, surely her eyes were deceiving her. She crept a little closer to the bridge, took hold of a railing. She could feel her own breath against the wards. Her brows shot high. _Perhaps it is a muggle orgy!_

She focused on the music they played. On the singer's words. Hoping for a clue to their salacious activities.

_Do you love me?(I can really move)_

_Do you love me?(I'm in the groove)_

_Ah, do you love me?(Do you love me)_

_Now that I can dance(Dance)_

So one suspicion was validated. The muggles were indeed dancing. _Perhaps they use dance as a sort of mating ritual... _Seemed feasible. Several muggle men seemed to be grinding their pelvises into the women, and the women didn't seem to mind.

Narcissa's head cocked. There was a strange grace to their lewd gyrations. And obviously a strength involved as the women spent a great deal of time being lifted by the men. One was even riding her partner's shoulders. There was a great deal of skin revealed. Some of the women were wearing little more than their knickers.

Cissa bit her lips. Her hand went quite consciously to her neck, but unconsciously, her hips swayed.

_Watch me now, oh(Work, work)_

_Ah, work it all baby(Work, work)_

_Well, you're drivin' me crazy(Work, work)_

_With a little bit of soul now(Work)_

The tune was rather catchy, she had to admit. And watching the muggles was making her inexplicably happy, as if witnessing joy reminded her there was still joy to be found. Of course, the strong muggle hands on tight muggle thighs was making her feel another sort of inexplicable thing as well.

Her fingers tightened in her satin skirt. _Or not so inexplicable... _One couple in particular was quite spirited. The man, sporting a thick head of dark hair, was dipping his remarkably...agile...partner low from her perch on his hips. Her golden locks were brushing the floor and tan bosoms threatened to spill from her scant pink frock.

_I can mash-potato (I can mash-potato)_

_And I can do the twist(I can do the twist)_

_Now tell me baby(Tell me baby)_

_Mmm, do you like it like this(Do you like it like this)_

_Not like any mashed potatoes I've ever made. _Cissa smirked, unaware her hip sways were growing bolder by the second.

"What have you found?"

"Gah!" She whirled, nearly lost her balance, and grappled with the bridge railing to right herself. Her bare back brushed the wards.

"Gods, mum!" Draco caught her elbow and pulled her against him. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She slapped at his chest. Hard. "You nearly scared the fucking life out of me, you sneaking little..." The rest was a growl.

Draco tried mightily to contain his laugh, but it was quite impossible. "I said I was sorry!" He watched her dust mild embarrassment from her frock skirt and gather herself. "Anyway what have you found?" He was peering over her head. "And what's that noise?"

_Tell me(Tell me)_

_Tell me_

"It's...muggles." She answered softly. "I think they're dancing."

Draco was staring wide-eyed. "I'll say they are. Merlin! What the devil are they wearing?"

"Not much at all?"

_Do you love me?(Do you love me)_

_Now, do you love me?(Do you love me)_

_Now, do you love me?(Do you love me)_

_Now that I can dance(Dance)_

Draco seemed quite distracted by the muggles' antics. Narcissa was a bit put out. She'd been found, startled and (of all things) muggle-watching. "What are you doing here?" She demanded.

_Watch me now, oh(Work, work)_

_Ah, shake it up, shake it(Work, work)_

_Ah, shake 'em, shake 'em down(Work, work)_

_Ah, little bit of soul now(Work)_

Draco tore his eyes from the spectacle below. "Oh, I was exploring a bit. And I saw you." He looked rather severe. "Question is, what are _you_ doing here? No lights, no jacket. It's chilly out, mum. And this is a bloody mountain! There could be...bears or pumas or something horrible."

Her laughter cut him off. "Oh, Draco." She patted his chest lovingly. "Shut up."

They looked back to the muggles, still dancing wildly to their wild muggle music. "Looks almost fun." Draco confessed for the both of them. Narcissa made no comment. "And muggles must really love mashed potatoes." He looked at her smile. "Yours were wonderful, by the way."

"Hm?"

"Your mashed potatoes. Dinner was excellent."

The smile muted a bit. "Thank you." A lightning bug settled briefly on her shoulder.

He hugged her with one arm. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"I was already upset."

He nodded. "Well. I'm sorry about that, too." Her head fell to his shoulder. They watched the muggles and the fireflies dance.

**AN:** Thanks all for coming back! I hope you're enjoying my bit of fun as much as I am. Just so you know, this one is a slow boiler. So while we may not see smut for a while, I promise you it will be epic when it appears.


	4. Nice Shoes

Chapter 4: Nice Shoes...

Malfoy breakfast had not been so awkward since they'd shared a table with Voldemort. Draco could have carved a lovely sculpture from the ice between his parents using the sharpened edge of the forced congeniality between himself and his father. They'd been giving each other false smiles and conciliatory glances all morning. A shame really, since the morning itself was quite lovely.

Birds sang and flitted - tiny streaks of color - from tree to bungalow rafter. One little blue jay in particular seemed determined to be seen, bathing fervently in a stone basin a few feet away. Draco watched his mother watch it just over his father's shoulder. She seemed grateful for the distraction.

"Plans today, son?"

"Hm?" He looked away from his mother's profile, mildly surprised anyone had spoken at all - much less his father to him.

Lucius looked squarely into Draco's eyes. "I asked if you had any plans today."

"No." Draco met the level gaze. "I haven't." He capped the mustard. "Have you...father?"

Narcissa blinked. Tensed. As usual, the mounting animosity between these two men had her on edge. She looked away from the jay who had been flirting with her to the narrowed glare shared by father and son.

"Yes." Lucius looked away first. Draco celebrated a small silent victory, took a congratulatory swig of his tea. "I've a meeting with the muggle liaison and some...muggles. We're going to play...golf...I believe."

"Golf?" It was the first word he'd heard Narcissa speak since a mumbled 'good morning.' Draco watched Lucius' gaze slide to his wife.

"Yes. Golf." He sniffed. "It's a muggle sport. I read up on it a bit last evening."

"Like Quidditch?" Narcissa asked. _She is so damned good at humoring the bastard._

But Lucius seemed more than happy to be engaged. _Or he's feeling guilty, which he should be. _"Not at all, darling." He began to outline the basics of muggle golf using a spreading knife and ball of butter. Narcissa seemed more than happy to feign interest, nodding and shaping her mouth prettily.

Draco leaned back in his chair, observing the farce. He took in his father with a scowl and felt inclined to interrupt the explication. "Do they all dress like ponces, then?"

Indeed, Lucius' explication ground to a sudden halt. For a moment, he stared at the table, then at his son. "Whom do you speak of, Draco?"

Narcissa's face betrayed her fear: confrontation. But he couldn't back down. "I mean these muggles who 'golf,' father." He gestured to Lucius' mugglish attire. "Do they all dress like court jesters? Or are you still practicing?"

Lucius' thin nostrils flared. His hands flexed on the table's edge. Draco watched one of his mother's hands drift hesitantly toward Lucius', then draw back to her lap. "Draco..." The older wizard released a heavy sigh. "I've no intention of crossing wands with you today."

"We haven't wands to cross, father."

"Draco, please." Narcissa begged. He looked at her and felt a wave of guilt.

"He needn't bother." Lucius was standing from the table. "I've an appointment to keep. If you'll excuse me, love." She reached for his arm, but he stepped past her fingers.

Draco looked down, sensing his mother's displeasure.

"Why must you goad him?"

"I'm sorry, mother."

She cast her serviette to the table in disgust. "I've heard more than my fill of apologies lately, son. After a time, I find they start to sound like excuses." She stood, as well. Draco fiddled at a thread on his trousers. "I'm off to meet Carolyn. We're shopping today. I do hope you find some source of entertainment as fulfilling as antagonising your father."

Her cold tone chilled him straight through. He watched her gather her purse and leave the patio - straight-backed and high-chinned. _Never too old for that discipline, I suppose. _ He tossed a bit of uneaten muffin into the clutch of birds gathered neath the basin. _The discipline of mummy's disappointment. _

He sighed. Loneliness was a bitch, indeed.

The Shoppes at Mont Blanc were notoriously posh. Narcissa had easily felt at home amongst the upturned noses and apathetic eyes with their wet jealousy. Funny, she now felt more like an outsider. Of course, the eyes were far less apathetic now. Mostly they recognised a Malfoy face. The resulting whispers made her haughty carriage harder to carry.

"Ignore it." As if she could read Narcissa's mind, Carolyn fell into step beside her in front of Toppe Steppe. She stubbed out her fag with her elegantly heeled foot.

Narcissa looked down at the discarded vice and the sleek red basilisk skin atop it. "Nice shoes."

Carolyn's smirk was pure smirk. "I thank you kindly." Her own glance downward. "Yours aren't so bad, either." She gestured to the storefront. "Shall we?"

Narcissa chuckled as they entered. "Toppe Steppe," she muttered. "Do they think putting two p's in something makes it more appealing?"

"Perhaps." Carolyn was already stalking a pair of deep purple ankle boots. Narcissa was finding it difficult to get into the spirit of shopping today, and her companion noticed. "Are you alright?"

The Malfoy witch sat on a lush plush cushion, fingering the heels displayed beside it. Discretely, she checked their privacy. "No, honestly." Her lips worked. It was not easy to reveal herself - even to this witch she trusted. "Draco and Lucius are at each others' throats constantly. It's driving me barmy, I think."

"Mm." Carolyn had knelt and removed Cissa's left taupe pump. "And?" She urged, slipping on a bright blue heel of dragonskin. "Gods, that's sexy," she murmured.

Narcissa leaned closer to her friend, inspecting the shoe she'd selected. "And...Lucius confessed his..." She colored. Carolyn looked up, met her eyes supportively. There was no judgment there. "His impotence." A whisper.

"I see." Carolyn sighed. Tapped the tip of Narcissa's other toe until she could remove that pump, as well. "Merlin, love. That's...hardly necessary." She slipped on the other dragonskin. "I mean, in the face of all the other bollocks you've been dealt." She studied her friend's foot, turned it this way and that. "You've such lovely, tiny feet, Cissa. You simply must get these."

Narcissa held up the foot and studied it herself. "Do you think so? They're rather..."

"Yes, they're not your usual conservative fare, are they?" Carolyn stood. "What have you to lose?"

Cissa blinked up at the no-nonsense witch. "What am I to do, Carolyn?"

"Well, you're not going to mope about and let this eat your soul." From a nearby shelf, Carolyn plucked a pair of sleek black knee-high boots. "Perhaps you should consider a replacement."

"Replacement?" Narcissa removed the blue heels in favor of the shiny boots. They were charmed and immediately molded to her leg. "Oh, that's fantastic."

"Isn't it? They fit you, you bitch." Carolyn was slipping on the purple ankle boots. "A replacement. You know what I mean. Plenty of witches take one, especially here."

Carolyn modeled the footwear and Narcissa nodded appreciatively. "Take one what?" She asked.

"Tsk." Carol squeezed onto the cushion beside her to whisper: "A lover, you goose."

Again, Narcissa coloured. "Oh, I couldn't!"

"Oh ho-ho!" Carolyn laughed loudly, bringing even more blush to the paler witch's cheeks. "You certainly could. Especially in those boots. Excuse me!" She waved down a passing sales clerk. "She'll take these."

"Carolyn!"

"And bring us something in red. Same size, please." She looked back to Narcissa. "I'd say it's time to re-claim a little life, Mrs. Malfoy."

By the third shoppe, Narcissa had started to feel a bit more energetic. There were innumerable shrunken bags between the witches by the time they decided luncheon was in order. They chose a cafe overlooking a sizable koi pond, both in the mood for Asian fare.

"It's warmed up a bit," Narcissa remarked, sipping her lemonade.

"It has." Carolyn drained her gin and tonic quickly, already clinking her ice to call for another. "I've broken a sweat, in fact."

Narcissa laughed. "Me, too. I can't remember the last time I sweat like this!"

"Well, I doubt it was under your husband." Carolyn winced even after the acerbic comment left her lips. "Sweet Circe, Cissy. I'm bloody sorry."

But Cissa was snorting behind her hand. "Carol. Please, don't apologise. I have never asked you to be anyone but yourself and I should expect no less now." She sobered a bit. "Besides, you're right."

"Still. I'm a damn snake-tongued sow sometimes." Carolyn put a hand over Narcissa's. "I shall try to mind my manners - and my mouth - a bit better." When an elf appeared with her drink, Narcissa asked for one, too. "Well, well, well." Carolyn raised arched brows at her friend. "You _are _starting to re-claim that life, aren't you?"

Safely shaded in their table's umbrella, Narcissa spoke quietly if embarrassedly. "How does one go about it, then?" She toyed with a menu. "Finding a replacement, I mean."

Carolyn waved the question away, dispelled the humiliation. "Truly, darling. For you it's simply a matter of opening your eyes! Narcissa." Subtly, she gestured to the right. "Look over there." Cissa's blue eyes cut, practiced. "He's not taken his eyes off of you since we sat to this table."

"Oh?" Narcissa blinked. Was she truly so unaware of her surroundings? But no doubt Carolyn was right. Even now, the wizard was watching her - and not at all secretly. She blushed. Very suddenly, it was wonderful to be appreciated. "He's..."

"Oh, he's gorgeous!" Carolyn hissed. "You can't find fault with _that_!"

"He's not my type." Narcissa demurred when their drinks arrived. Carolyn gaped at her. Cissa grimaced. "Well, he's a bit...gingery."

"Good goddess," Carolyn groused. "You'd refuse a shag on the basis of ginger hair alone?"

"Yes." The gin and tonic was wonderfully refreshing, as was Carolyn's gobsmacked visage. In far better humour, Cissa nodded to the left. "But I wouldn't mind that one."

Carolyn feigned a stretch to follow Cissa's gaze onto a darkly exotic wizard a few tables over. "Oh, I see. You're looking for...younger fare." She stirred her drink with her finger. "Completely understood. Not to mention that one looks distinctly Italian and no nationality that produces shoes like the Italians can be bad in the sack."

Narcissa rubbed her boot-clad calves together and raised her glass for a toast. "I agree." At the clink of their glasses, the possibly Italian wizard looked up. He caught Cissa's eye and smiled. She smiled back. Bit her lip. _Perhaps Carolyn is right...re-claiming my life might not be so terrible, after all._

It was evening before she returned to the bungalow, apparating with armloads of awkward parcels. Draco must have heard the pop of her arrival. He opened the front screen door onto the porch. "Late shopping," he said.

She slipped past him, let him take a few handfuls of bags. But he wasn't quite forgiven for his behaviour that morning, so she had little to say. "Well, we took in some new shoppes."

"Apparently." He shook his head at the number of parcels. "Where do you want these?"

"My room," she answered. He followed her down the hall, making no comment on her verbiage. He'd overheard enough to know she was no longer sharing a room with his father, after all. She doubted any explanations were necessary. "Thank you, dragon."

He smiled after depositing the bags on 'her' bed. He secretly loved the nickname. He knew what she wanted, needed, and leaned in her doorway. "Mother."

"Yes?" She was decompressing, releasing her hair from its restricting upsweep and brushing it over one shoulder.

"I apologise," he spoke sincerely. "For this morning. I didn't mean to upset you."

She paused in her brushing, turned to face him. "Thank you. But I wish you would apologise to your father, too."

"I did."

"You did?" Surprise was so pretty on her.

He told her the truth. "Yes. He was here earlier. Changed after his golf game. He says he'll be back late. Meeting some more muggles for dinner, apparently."

She looked only slightly disappointed. "I see. His golf must have gone well, then."

Draco nodded. "He seemed pleased. In a good mood."

"Well." She dropped her brush on a dresser and shrugged out of her light slate jacket. "I'm glad the two of you spoke. I assume he was receptive to your apology?"

"He was."

"Excellent." She stepped out of her pumps and smiled genuinely as she approached him. "You make me so proud, darling." She cupped his cheek.

Draco closed his eyes, leaned unashamedly into her caress. His hand curled over hers, held it to his jaw. They were quiet.

"Did you find something to occupy your time today?" There was a stiffness in her arm suddenly, a tension in her voice. Draco's pressure on her hand increased when she made to pull away.

"I did," he murmured into her palm.

Narcissa felt a flutter in her belly. His soft lips tickled her skin, caused a tingle she'd nearly forgotten. "Good," she whispered.

"Mmhm." She smelled like mint and salty sea and green tea. Some wicked perfume... "Did you enjoy your shopping?"

Her own eyes fluttered shut. Her arm felt bright and white hot where his breath fell. "It was...hot out." Hot in, too. A cool sweat had broken along her sides and beneath her breasts.

"Yes, it was." A barely there scrape of his teeth on the ball of her hand had her hitching a breath. He dared to flick his eyes to hers...

"Narcissa? Draco?"

They froze. Almost guilty. Cissa blinked quickly and tugged her hand from Draco's stubborn grasp. "In here, darling!" She called to Lucius.

Draco stepped into the shadowed hallway. He'd made enough peace with his father, and had no intentions of hearing all about muggle dinner. "Good night." Lucius' footsteps were fast approaching from the front room and Narcissa still seemed somewhat stunned. "And mother?"

"Huh?" Her arm was suspended slightly before her, bent as when he'd released it.

"Nice shoes." And he was gone before Lucius rounded the corner.

Predictably her husband took no note of her flustered state. He was a blur of activity and information - too much for the witch to take in at once. "Good evening, love." A hard kiss ghosted her cheek. "Have you eaten?" She managed a nod, but he'd already moved on. "I assume you had a fine day shopping?" Lucius had a truly disarming grin. He tossed it at her bags scattered across her bed. She nodded again, coming into her faculties. "Good! Good. Carolyn still as jaded and sarcastic as ever, I assume."

"Yes. She sends her greetings."

"Hm? Oh, fine. Fine." He was peeking into a few parcels, hardly interested. "I have to tell you, darling. These muggles..." He shook his head and took a seat on her bed. "They're a fascinating lot."

"Oh?" She wasn't certain what to do. Hadn't seen him this happy in a long time, but felt completely at a loss how to share the feeling. So she leaned against a bedpost and smiled her curiosity.

Lucius' elegant hands were animated as he talked. Her eyes followed them, remembering a time when they danced across her body as surely as they danced in midair now. But if her expression was wistful, Lucius missed it in the dim and his distraction.

"Golf is quite possibly the most boring sport I've ever encountered. However, it is an excellent way to size up one's companionship. They think I'm a real estate mogul from Finland, by the way. Rather fun, the anonymity of it all." He smirked. "Not to mention they're all real estate moguls, themselves. And investors, it seems. Intriguing to hear muggles speak of their markets. Pork bellies, instead of potions..." He caught her eye at last. "Am I boring you?"

"No, darling!" She assured him honestly. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken this much or with such enthusiasm.

"Well." He crossed his legs comfortably. "They're also extremely loose lipped, if you will. Bragging on more than I do, believe it or not. I learned a great deal about their finances today. And even more over dinner. I needn't say much, really. Just listen. They think my English is 'not so good.'"

Cissa laughed at that. She couldn't imagine a greater irony as Lucius' tongue was more silver than the moon...when he wished it. She sat beside him on the bed, thigh barely touching his.

"I'm beginning to wonder if I might be missing out on a profitable market, wife." He cocked his head toward her.

"Oh?" If there was one thing Lucius would never lose passion for, it was profit.

"Oh, indeed." He tensed when her hand touched his knee. "I...er...I think I'll speak to the liaison about it tomorrow. Perhaps the Ministry would see muggle trading as a component of exposure therapy?"

"I think they should." She patted his leg - a friendly gesture - and withdrew her hand on a sigh. _Such strangers now. _She rose. Indifferent to his comfort, she began to undress. "I'm glad you've managed to find a positive aspect to this punishment, husband."

He was quiet. In the moon's soft glow, she saw his eyes glint. He was watching her. A brief flare of desire lit in her belly. _How wonderful it would be if he would just touch me. Just kiss me once... _Then the memory of her son's touch flitted across her memory, bird wings stoking the ember to a flame. She heard Lucius rise from her bed as she flicked open her brassiere.

"I should let you prepare for bed," he muttered hastily.

She turned, challenging him with her bared breasts. "You can stay as long as you like, husband."

He swallowed thickly, looking away. "I'm really quite tired. Think I shall...prepare for bed, myself." He nearly tripped over a shopping bag in his hurry to retreat. "Good night, Narcissa."

"Good night..." She tossed the lingerie into an opened wardrobe drawer. "Husband." He closed her door silently behind himself, leaving an almost palpable wake of relief. She stood half-naked for a moment. Regarded the shrunken parcels littering the room and drew her wand from her skirt.

But suddenly the prospect of putting away her copious amounts of frivolity seemed such a daunting task. So instead, she swatted each package from the bed haphazardly and simply dropped across the duvet.

The ceiling above her was smooth. The windows cast long shadows there, and branches shivered restlessly. The witch was restless, too. Carolyn's advice, Draco's touch, Lucius' distance... All these things cast shadows she wished to look away from. "Damn," she whispered.

She wriggled out of her skirt, careless as to where it fell. Next garters, stockings and knickers until she was completely nude to the shadows. They gathered on her pale skin as if the ceiling wasn't space enough to roam. She looked down at herself; traced a dark dancing leaf on her smooth sculpted ribs.

Listless, her fingers traced the other shadowed shapes, raising gooseflesh in their stead. She gave up trying to ignore that cooling ember in her abdomen, gave herself over to it instead. Picturing the Italian wizard from the cafe, she let her fingers dip between her thighs, stroked through thin fur and into her wetness.

"Mmmm." How long since she'd touched herself? She couldn't remember. Her body bucked into the touch, though; it had not forgotten. She drew her legs up, bent knees and focused... One hand drew formless designs on the inside of her thigh, refused to let her gooseflesh settle. It wandered up her side, cupped a firm breast, tugged at the hard nipple until she gasped aloud.

The Italian wizard morphed. He had long, lean hands and a taut form. He pressed against her preciously and she flicked her clit in time to his imaginary ministrations. His hands were demanding, squeezed her breasts and tugged her hair, bared her neck to his teeth.

Her nails scraped the sensitive, thin skin beneath her jaw. She couldn't control the whispered "More!" that sneaked past her lips. _Does he have a name? _ A finger slipped slick into her slit and she gasped. _Doesn't matter._

In fact, suddenly even his face didn't matter. Her hands worked her body in tandem, compiling a list of sensations she swiftly lost track of. A ribbon of pleasure tightened into a knot and she loosed the knot with a second finger. "Ah!" _Oh, but wouldn't a mouth be so much better? _

The image came unbidden, opened a floodgate; her husband's skilled and eager tongue in the first years of their marriage, the mysterious, salacious possibilities in the young Italian's plump lips, Draco's forbidden mouth slipping over the plane of her belly...

"Sweet goddess, yes!" She hissed roughly. Her fingers plunged too quick. The pleasure burned off as though sun-kissed and her body curled into surrender. "Ohhhhh," she groaned helpless, a bent acrobat milking her own fingers fruitlessly.

And it _was _fruitless. _All for naught. _The momentary fulfillment not at all fulfilling. In fact, if anything, she felt emptier than before. And still those shadows danced.

She blinked back tears. _Stupid to cry, witch._ But she'd imagined her own boy's mouth on her when she came and there was no denying that. Calling on a strength she kept in reserve, she pushed up and onto her knees. Slid off the bed. Her legs shook, unaccustomed to her earlier muscle work.

She retrieved a silken shift from her wardrobe and slipped it on. Her body tingled where the fabric settled.

The bungalow was quiet. She made her way across the hall to the lavatory. A bath would have been nice, but she was knackered. She cleaned up a bit, brushed her teeth. In the mirror over the sink, her cheeks were pink and eyes wet.

Her bed was an embrace. She clutched a thick pillow to her chest, curled around it. Outside, a nightbird sang. "Come a-way! Come a-way!" The lilting cry lulled her to sleep. Her last thought was of her son...

**AN:** Who can resist a little Narsturbation once in a while? If you want to read really good Narsturbation, do check out NarcissaNerea's works. She has cornered the market, I feel. Even Lucius would buy in. And yes, that was a little nod to Stevie Nicks there at the end. I love _Edge of Seventeen_. Deal with it. Hey, guess what! Next chapter actually has...dancing! Thanks as always for following, reviewing and just plain reading. You're all such jewels...


	5. Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'

Chapter 5: Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'

Narcissa rose late on Wednesday morning. She'd taken to sleeping in. Generally, by the time she came to breakfast, Lucius had left for his muggle exposure and Draco was off doing the Goddess knew what. She enjoyed the peace, but avoiding her son and husband grew tiresome.

Today, she sat at the patio table in a short peach dressing gown. The days had grown warmer, and she enjoyed sunning her legs when she was lazily plucking and eating cool grapes and watching two jays flirt. Smiling. A fat, red grape slipped from her fingers and into her cleavage. "Oh!"

She held peach silk away from her chest, gazing into the folds to find the recalcitrant fruit. It was rolling to a stop beneath her left breast and she tisked, fingers chasing it.

"Need help?"

The grape flew through the air, fired from her startled fingers. "Bloody damn hell!" She covered her chest and thighs, suddenly aware the precarious coverage the new dressing gown offered. "Draco!"

Her son chuckled, leaning in the opened doorway. "What the devil, mum?" His eyes skated her form. She could feel them. And when he licked his lips, she could taste them. "Having a nice breakfast?"

"I _was_," she groused. She cinched the tie tighter around her waist. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm staying here." He gestured grandly and dropped a book on the table. "In paradise. Remember?" He sat heavily in the chair across from her and plucked his own grape from the fruit bowl. She stared at him expectantly. "And I had a meeting with my own...muggle liaison."

"Oh." She blinked. "Well, how was that?"

He shrugged. "Fine. He gave me some books and I picked my exposure therapy from a couple of options."

"What did you choose?" She sliced off some cheese and popped it in her mouth.

"Film." He was quick to reply.

"...What?"

"Film. Muggle film." He waved at the cheese, silently requesting a slice for himself. She cut as he explained. "They show these muggle films every night down at the retreat. I'll go watch some with all the other muggles and...you know...talk to them, I suppose. Socialise."

"I see." She nodded. "Don't suppose the golf interested you?"

"No."

"Hm." She pointed to the book before him. "What's that?"

He looked at the book. Their eyes lingered on it, met, then fell back to the book. "It's muggle literature. Robert gave it to me."

"Robert?"

"My liaison."

"Ah." She reached for the book. "The Wizard of Oz?" He nodded. "I thought you said it was muggle literature."

"It is."

"About a wizard?"

He bit into a crisp bagel. Spoke with his mouth full. "Yes. And witches. It's interesting."

"Hmmm." Her brows arched and she opened the hardback, began scanning the first pages.

Draco's hungry eyes devoured her. Her legs were light pink from the sun, as were her cheeks. He imagined deepening that pink, feeling the softness of that warm skin as her knees skimmed his hips. _She's my mum... _She shifted in her chair and silk slipped aside to reveal a hint of creamy firm breast. _Fucking hell. _He forced his eyes away, remembering the frisson of electricity that had passed between them just a few nights ago in her room. "Mother?"

"Mm?"

"What time do you normally...dress?"

She looked up from his book, eyes conveying her dawning recognition. Slowly, she looked down on herself. "Oh..." And yes, those cheeks colored nicely. "I'm sorry." She pushed away from the table, chair scraping loudly on stone. "I'll er...I'll be back."

He watched her smooth thighs as she left the table. Her calves were shapely stems for her swaying hips. When she disappeared into the bungalow, Draco poured some orange juice. Sipped it and winced. _Needs champagne._

"Well, good morning, handsome."

He coughed, nearly choking on juice. "Who the..." He turned. _Damn it to hell. _He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. "Good morning, Ms. Howe."

The older witch chuckled. Her cool hand patted his cheek. "Contain your excitement, young dragon." She sat in his mother's vacated seat. "Where's the lovely witch of the house?"

"Dressing herself." He gestured to the spread grudgingly, ignored her raised brow. "D'you fancy breakfast? Some juice?"

Carolyn grinned, clearly amused by his reluctant hosting. "No, thank you. I don't touch the stuff. Unless there's champagne involved." She picked up his book. "Oh, muggle literature!"

"It's not so bad," Draco defended tightly. His nostrils flared. This witch set him on edge.

"No, it certainly isn't," she agreed. "Lower your hackles, Malfoy heir." She handed him the book. "Don't think you're the only one who's had muggle exposure therapy."

He blinked at her. Leaned forward in surprise and interest. "_You've _ had exposure therapy?"

"Mmhm." She yawned and stretched. A thick sundress strap slipped over a tan shoulder. "I have. A year of it, in fact." She saw his next question coming and intercepted it. "I was one of the 'revelers' at the Quidditch World Cup a few years back. Surely you remember that little incident? Only I was caught. Ratted out by my now-ex-husband."

Draco was nodding. "Yes, I remember it. Did you complete your therapy here, then?"

"I did. Everyone does. Your mother tells me your father came here for that express purpose."

He looked down. "I suppose he did. And to hide, I think." It was difficult to let go of that pet theory.

Carolyn narrowed her eyes, regarded Draco gaugingly. "Perhaps there's a bit of that, too. Yes. Either way." She plucked a grape and spoke as she chewed it. "You're here and it's convenient. Robert gave me _The Wizard of Oz, _too. So obviously you've met with him." Her eyes sparkled. "What did you choose?"

"Film."

"Film." She smirked. "Right..."

"What?" He demanded.

"Nothing!" But her smirk grew. "Film is a wonderful exposure therapy! It's just... Well, I chose the same thing." She plucked another grape and shrugged. "I was just thinking how rather amusing it is we seem to have so much in common."

Draco scowled. But a bright red blush spread across his cheeks just the same. _Damn my pale light-fearing ancestors. _His mother appeared at that moment, door banging closed when she noticed her friend's presence.

"Carolyn!" Narcissa approached, saving him from further vexing conversation. "What a delightful surprise."

"Indeed," Draco grumbled. Carolyn made a face at him. He made one back.

"Draco!" His mother reprimanded him. "Do behave." Carolyn winked, knowing her expression was hidden from Narcissa. "What brings you for this unexpected visit?"

"Boredom, primarily." Carolyn gestured airily. "And to invite you to a little soirée this evening."

Narcissa rounded her friend and sat facing her. "Oh, Carol... You know I avoid parties." Draco watched the exchange between the witches, feigning disinterest. "And besides, I was hoping Draco might share some of his muggle literature with me this evening." He brightened and Narcissa smiled at him. He was happy to be her excuse.

"I imagine Draco has a film to attend this evening." Carolyn hedged. Her green eyes caught him peripherally and pinned him.

_Damn... _He winced. "Actually, I do have exposure tonight, mum. I'm sorry." She hid her disappointment behind a graceful, dismissive smile. Draco turned the tables quickly. "By the way, mum. Did you know Carolyn here had muggle exposure therapy, too? And she chose film." He smirked smarmily at the nonplussed visitor. "Just like me."

Narcissa turned fascinated eyes onto Carolyn. "Is that true, Carol?"

Carolyn curled her lip at Draco. Plucked a grape for herself. "Yes. It's true." She waved the grape about, explaining. "And I'll say I fully exposed quite a few muggles... therapeutically, of course." She chuckled.

"Carolyn!"

"Oh, gods!" The Malfoys spoke at once, each mortified in their own way.

Carolyn was laughing even harder. "Oh, everyone does it." She reasoned. "Muggles are a fair lot in bed. The men are experimental and the women are -"

"Carolyn!" Narcissa shouted again. She noticed Draco's suddenly piqued interest. "Draco," she hissed. "You wouldn't -"

"Mother!" He shouted back, scandalised she would even think such a thing. "Please!"

Carolyn had to hide her growing mirth behind a hand, so amused at the Malfoys' embarrassed antics. She adored causing a stir... Just then, her grape slipped from her fingers, directly into her sundress. "Oh!" She tugged her bodice away, gazing into her cleavage for the purple projectile.

Narcissa and Draco stared at her, their shock giving way to their own amusement. Draco coughed lightly, controlled his laughter. "Need some help?"

Carolyn glared at him sardonically. "Oh, would you?" She teased, one hand buried between her breasts and the other holding up her dress.

The Malfoys shared a look before Narcissa smirked her own smirk. Leaning forward, she asked kindly: "Er...which of us would you prefer to...help, Carolyn?"

The other witch gasped in both good-natured surprise and humor. Draco didn't bother to hide his full-fledged guffaw, and Narcissa's snickering was brought up short when a warm grape fresh from her friend's cleavage popped her soundly on the mouth. "Ow!"

"Exactly," Carolyn sniped. She sipped orange juice. Winced. "Isn't there any bloody champagne?"

* * *

Lucius was sitting in a leather wingback on the screened porch when Narcissa stepped out. "There you are," she said.

He looked at her over the newspaper he was perusing. "And there _you _are." He smiled softly. "You look lovely. Going out?"

She looked down at herself, fingered the soft chiffon folds of loose, flowing skirt. "Yes, thank you. Carolyn is hosting a _soirée_. Her word, not mine." She licked her glossed lips. "Would you like to accompany me?"

His smile turned nostalgic. "I promised my liaison I would take a look at these financial reports." He shook the paper. "He thinks I have some good ideas I can share with the muggles. If you can imagine that." A soft laugh.

Narcissa nodded. "You were always of a mind for finance. I'm certain the muggles will benefit from your expertise."

Lucius blinked at her for a moment. In the half-light of evening, she was cast in silver. He stood, laid his paper aside and reached for her. "You've missed a button, I'm afraid." He gestured to her silk blouse, not quite touching.

"Oh." She fixed the gap of a skipped pearl. "Thank you."

"You're getting some sun." He brushed his fingertips over her bare shoulders. Tugged upward on a scalloped strap.

"Yes." She looked at his hand. Watched it draw away. Her body wanted to follow. "Lucius…"

His eyes hardened. He turned and picked up his paper. "Draco out this evening, as well?"

"Yes. At a film."

Lucius nodded. "You really are lovely, Narcissa." He sat and hid his face again behind the paper. "If I'm in bed before you return… Good night."

She paused in the doorway. Looked back at her husband. She didn't know what to make of his parting words. "Good night."

She used the walk to Carolyn's cottage as a fortification tool. Took deep breaths of fresh, crisp night air. Touched at her off the shoulder frock. Ran the litany through her head: _I'm still a young witch. Still beautiful. There is no harm in socialising. No harm in flirtation. And perhaps if there's a wizard who is mature and amenable and capable of maintaining discretion and pragmatism... Well, perhaps there is no harm in taking a lover. _

Her belly felt filled with nifflers. Anxiety came in waves, and when she approached the cottage - glittering with fairy lights and laughter - she made to turn back.

"There you are!"

"Ah!" She jumped. Whirled to see Carolyn stepping from the shadows nearby. "Gods, Carol! You nearly frightened me to death."

"You were going to leave."

"No, I wasn't."

"Liar." Carolyn held out a drink. It tinkled invitingly. "Drink this. Homemade meade. Delicious." She sipped her own.

Narcissa allowed herself to be ushered to Carolyn's festive patio. There must have been a dozen witches and wizards there. "I thought you said this was a small soirée."

"Oh, it is! There are a few more people inside. Castor! How lovely to see you!" She waved at a white-haired wizard. "And I have a surprise for you, darling." She whispered, navigating Cissa past a few clustered cliques, pointing to a far corner of the patio. "And there it is. I say, Nico! Having a good time?"

Narcissa was brought up short. The dark wizard from the cafe turned, acknowledged Carolyn with a raised drink. "Sì, signora!" He called out. "A wonderful time." But his eyes lingered on Narcissa.

Carolyn's arm urged her forward. Cissa felt a little wobbly on her heels. This was happening rather quickly. "Nico, love, this is my gorgeous friend Narcissa. Cissa, this is Niccolo Diamante."

Narcissa watched her own hand as the young wizard raised it to his lips. "I remember you," he said. "From the cafe."

"Oh?"

His smile was too white, too toothy, too disarming. "It's difficult to forget such beauty."

"Isn't it, though?" Carolyn asked loudly. "I'm afraid I must go and mingle amongst my guests, Narcissa dear. I'm certain Nicco can entertain you?"

"Er..." Her hand scrambled briefly at Carolyn's arm. The hostess attempted to downplay the tussle with grace. "I -" But Carolyn managed to extract herself, already calling out to another passing guest. Narcissa heard an embarrassing 'meep' in her throat.

"Carolyn's description did you no justice, bellezza." Nicco leaned into her space subtly, spoke over the music.

"You're too kind," Cissa demurred. She didn't mind a bit of flattery, but she wasn't quite ready for this wizard's seductive purr.

"I am an honest man." He gestured to the mingling crowd. "I tell you now. All of these witches and wizards - not an honest one among them." He gestured to himself. "But me. Mia...I will not lie to you."

"I see." She did see. In fact, she was frantically attempting to not look frantic as she sought out Carolyn's face.

"Do you dance?"

"Dance?" But he was already taking her hand, leading her to a shadowed cove where a few other couples swayed. "Wait." He set her drink on the cement ledge beside his own, pulled her close by her waist. "Oh!"

"Narcissa." He murmured close to her ear. His breath smelled of honey. "Do not be so tense." The hand at her back spread its digits. She could feel the heat of his fingers through thin silk. "I mean you no harm."

"No, of course not." And she did try to relax. Even draped an arm across his firm shoulders. He was talking. She was not listening. Instead, she was trying to focus on the feel of his body moving against hers.

He was tall. Not as tall as her son, perhaps. But tall enough. And thick. Reminiscent of Lucius' muscular frame. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine his dark skin against her light - a study in stark contrasts. Imagined what his mouth would be like quiet and moving against hers. Imagined his thick masculine fingers parting the swollen, secret parts of her...

But it wasn't working.

Instead of feeling inclined toward romance, she was beginning to feel strangely inclined to flee. His breath was hot on her neck, puffing against that place just beneath her ear. She felt it pushing against her delicate crystal earring. And his voice had dropped in timbre, a seductive rumble.

She wasn't seduced. Suddenly, she felt claustrophobic in the extreme. His fingers were dipping perilously close to her arse, urging her closer to him, while his other hand was a sweat farm on her fingers.

His voice, the voices of the party, Carolyn's chiming laughter floating in from afar - too much. "I have to go!" She blurted it suddenly, feet tangling a bit with his. "I'm so sorry." Awkward, ashamed and feeling somewhat like Cinderella leaving the ball, she extracted her hand. His fingers slicked across her hip, sticky as they were.

"Narcissa?" He seemed so confused. The wonder contorted his face unattractively.

_Probably doesn't hear 'no' very often,_ Narcissa thought. _What the hell is wrong with me? _"Just...forgive me, Nico. I need..." She didn't finish the sentence. Just turned away from his disbelieving face and clicked across the patio stones.

She dodged between various guests gracefully, managed to avoid the hostess, and clattered down the steps to the stone walkway. There, she paused for a space. Right? Home? To her husband who would have questions and silence? Back to Carolyn's party where she was at the mercy of strangers and their seductions? Or...left. To the unknown. To that bridge and the barrier between her and another world.

She chose the left. Wondered if those muggles were dancing down there. Hoped that they were...

* * *

Draco was trying to focus, too - on his feet. _Bloody damn hard when I can't look at my feet. _Instead, he was staring into a pair of smiling brown eyes. "Loosen up your shoulders," the muggle said. "And step quickly! This isn't a Viennese waltz!"

"Sorry!" He gasped. His left eye stung where a bed of sweat had found its way in. It was blazing hot in the clubhouse, and learning the mambo wasn't helping. Lena laughed when his toe nicked hers again. "Damn," he hissed. "Sorry."

"You apologize more than a politician, Draco. Spin me!"

"Right." Concentrating, he raised his arm, tightened his left leg. Watched Lena twirl gracefully away, then pulled her back in. She oophed against his chest.

"Still too tight, mate." This from Lena's dance partner, and Draco's teacher, Vic. "You've got to relax."

"I know, I know." Lena slipped gracefully to a stop, watched Vic take Draco through the motions again.

"Two, three, four. Two, three, four." They moved in tandem - Vic's muscular form smooth and sensual, Draco's lanky body uncertain and stiff. "Good, good," Vic encouraged. "It amazes me how quickly you get the steps, Draco. Again." Vic stepped back to Lena's side, watched Draco go through the motions.

Draco listened to them talk about him as he practiced. "He's so good at the technical," Vic was saying. "We've just got to work on the subtleties of it."

Lena nodded, cocking her head to watch Draco's black trouser clad legs carry through the complicated footing. "I want to see what happens when we get you with the right partner, Draco. And when you start really feeling the music."

Vic punched a button on the stereo, silencing Tito Puente and bringing Draco to a lilting halt. "Let's take a rest. Go see how everyone's doing upstairs. Maybe get you dancing a little more informally, eh?" He took Lena's arm.

Draco watched the pair. They moved so fluidly together, as if their bodies were one entity. He faltered. Going upstairs meant being among the other dancers. And not the students like himself - the experienced ones. It also meant the 'other' dancing. The kind he'd watched with his mother that night on the bridge, from behind the safety of Mont Blanc's wards.

But now he was on the other side of those wards - secretly learning the dance of the muggles. He'd lied to his mother. He hadn't chosen film. There had been something so alluring, so freeing in their dance that he could not resist the opportunity to be a part of it.

He'd underestimated them, though. The muggles. Three nights and he was damned exhausted. His feet hurt. In fact, every muscle in his body ached. Vic promised it would pass.

Not to mention the steps were complicated. Fast. And there were so many to memorise. Hundreds of dances. Was this what muggles did? Make up dances all the time?

Draco was wiping the sweat from the back of his neck as he ascended the clubhouse stairs. The second floor was bustling and brightly lit. The music here was faster, louder and less formal than the music he heard during his lessons. In fact it was different than any music he'd ever heard in his life.

Tonight, a muggle was singing about dancing. The beat was addictive. Free from the disciplined instruction of his lessons, and anonymous among these muggle faces, Draco smiled and entered the heat produced by moving bodies. His hips moved of their own accord, and it wasn't long before he had a partner.

_Let me tell you 'bout a place_

_Somewhere up-a New York way_

_Where the people are so gay_

_Twistin' the night away_

She was a young muggle. Blonde. Her skirt was shorter than propriety's greatest exception, but her toned legs were sure. Soon, she was taking him through a modified twist. Draco caught on quickly, even adopted some maneuvers from surrounding muggles.

_Here they have a lot of fun_

_Puttin' trouble on the run_

_Man, you find the old and young_

_Twistin' the night away_

The muggle girl straddled his leg and he caught her round the waist, watched her arch gracefully backward. She had small, pert breasts within a cropped plaid top. He caught a glimmer of light and focused on the shiny ring in her navel.

_They're twistin', twistin'_

_Everybody's feelin' great_

_They're twistin', twistin'_

_They're twistin' the night away_

He pulled the girl up, spun her out. She swayed back laughing. His front to her back, Draco swayed with her. She curled an arm around his neck, urged his ear close to her mouth. "You're a great dancer!"

He smiled almost shyly. "I'm getting better." He had to shout over the music.

She spun to face him, gyrated against him. "Want to go dance someplace private?"

He nearly froze. "Er..." Barely managed to fall into sync with her hip movements. "I..."

"What's your name?" She asked, laughing. She seemed amused by his shyness and uncertainty, which made him even more shy and uncertain.

"It's -"

"_Draco_?!"

_Here's a man in evening clothes_

_How he got here, I don't know, but_

_Man, you oughta see him go_

_Twistin' the night away_

Now he did freeze. _No bloody way in hell. _But there - just past the girl's head - staring at him as though he was an apparition - was his "Mother!" The exclamation was nearly silent, so shocked he was his voice could barely cooperate. He shoved the muggle girl away - didn't even see the anger on her face. He was too busy taking in the disbelief on his mother's.

_He's dancin' with a chick in slacks_

_She's movin' up and back_

_Oh, man, there ain't nothin' like_

_Twistin' the night away_

For a few moments they simply stared at each other; Draco heaving and sweating in his soaked grey tee, Narcissa shaking in yards of white silk and chiffon. She couldn't have looked more out of place, and yet the muggles seemed to take little or no notice. They danced on, ignoring the surreal drama taking place in the middle of the crowded floor.

"Draco..." She gestured helplessly. "What are you..."

"Mum." He stepped toward her. Needed her to hear him. "Come with me," he said quickly, taking her hand. They navigated through the crowd with some difficulty as the writhing couples could be quite unpredictable.

_They're twistin', twistin'_

_Everybody's feelin' great_

_They're twistin', twistin'_

_They're twistin' the night_

Finally, they reached a barrier of windows. Draco took hold of a metal latch and opened the sliding glass door. He whisked his mother over the threshold and onto the expansive balcony. The music muffled immediately when he closed the door. There were a few couples on the balcony seeking refuge from the noise and heat, so Draco pulled his stunned mother to farthest shadowed nook.

Once in the security of the dark, he planted her against a balcony rail and turned away. He scraped a hand through sweaty hair, tried to fathom what he would say to her.

"Draco...I thought you were watching a film."

There was accusation in her voice, but also something that cut him to the bone: hurt. He swallowed. "I'm sorry, mum." He couldn't look at her yet, couldn't look at those wide, wanting eyes. They tried to keep their voices low.

"Why did you lie to me? What are you doing here?"

Now he turned, suddenly incensed to questions of his own. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"I came to watch the muggles and I saw _my son_ with them! About to..." She gestured rudely towards the clubhouse, grimacing.

"You had to have been pretty damned close to see me." He could accuse, too.

"I was curious!" She spat. "And you're one to talk about being close! You could have told me you found a muggle...girlfriend!"

"I don't even know her!" He hissed.

She gasped, scandalised. "Oh, Draco!"

He growled in frustration. "Gods, Narcissa! It was just a dance!"

"That's hardly dancing!"

He sighed. Gripped the balcony railing in frustration. Decided it would be best to explain fully. "I'm taking dancing lessons from a muggle instructor. He and his partner work for the muggle retreat. All of those people do." He pointed to the dancefloor. "When we're done with the lesson, Vic likes to bring me here. I watch and sometimes...dance with the others."

Narcissa was processing, her eyes were skating about in that way that said she was searching out sense. "But darling, you know how to dance! You're an excellent dancer! I taught you."

"You taught me to waltz, mum. Perfectly, in fact." He stepped toward her. "This is...different." He shrugged. "It's reckless and careless and...fun."

Narcissa looked down, thinking, and Draco used the moment to take her in. Her hair was curled and swept up, thick tendrils escaping an elaborate clasp. There was a little more makeup on her face than usual, her eyes particularly darkened with kohl. And her lips - already shaped like a cupid's bow - were glistening pink.

She was lithe and curvy in a calf-length frock, shoulders revealed by a touchable silk top. Little pearl buttons invited fingers to slip them free, to reveal more pink, pretty flesh. "Where've you been?" He asked.

She looked up. Blushed. Even in the dimness, he could see something of a guilt in her gaze. "I went to Carolyn's party."

"Ended rather early, didn't it?"

Again her gaze fell. "I left early."

"Oh." He touched her chin, urged her eyes up again. "Are you alright?"

A small smile broke. "Yes, darling. I'm fine." She rubbed at her face and took a deep breath, gathered her faculties. "And I'm sorry. I've embarrassed you. And I should go." But he caught her arm when she started past.

"Let's both go," he said. He wanted to soothe her, wanted to see her smile, wanted to... But he shook that thought off. "I'll read to you back at the bungalow." He took her arm to lead her back through the crowd.

She protested as they approached the door. "Stay, Draco. Really. You were...dancing so well. You should enjoy this!" The music drowned her voice when he opened the door. He wasn't listening anyway.

But the crowd was growing denser, closing in on them. Draco had to press tightly to his mother, slip them in between the couples. At one point, he pulled her hand up, held their arms aloft to squeeze between a fat column and a whipping body.

"Glad to see you've finally found a partner who can keep up with you!"

"Gods." Draco stopped. It was Vic, standing directly in front of him, Lena hanging on his arm. "Er..." He looked down at his mother. Just then, the music shifted, quieted. Slowed. It was easier to converse over a bluesy piano.

"And a lovely one!" Lena winked at him. Held her hand out to Narcissa. "I'm Lena. Haven't seen you here before."

Draco watched his mother, tense. He'd never seen her so stiff. But she extended a hand just the same. "I'm Narcissa."

"Pretty name." Lena smiled. A muggle started to sing and she turned to Vic. Her expression went sultry and her body became an invitation.

Vic smiled softly as he yielded to Lena's invitation. "Let's see how you do on a slower number, Draco." He winked at Narcissa. "See if you can't get him to relax a bit."

_You make me weep and wanna die_

_Just when you said we'd try_

Draco felt trapped - literally and figuratively. His instructors were moving as one unit right in front of them. Another couple moved in to the right, and a thick cement column loomed to the left. _Doomed. _

Surrendered to fate, he looked down at his petite mother. Shifted his hold on her hand. Turned to face her.

"Draco?" Her eyes widened even further if it was possible.

"Just...just move with me, mum."

"But -"

_Lovin', touchin', squeezin' each other_

He folded an arm around her waist. _Hell, she's tiny. _She stepped closer instinctively and he felt her arm fall over his shoulders. Her feet shifted in time with his, as if recalling the days when she'd taught him to waltz in the drawing room of their manor.

_When I'm alone all by myself_

_You're out with someone else_

Point of fact, he found it remarkably easy to dance with his mother. She was sure on her feet and smooth, not so stormy and wild as the muggle girls. Narcissa danced like a calm sea; tide rolling in, tide rolling out.

_Lovin', touchin', squeezin' each other_

And when the tempo increased, when the music deepened to a grind, she followed with ease. She bent ever so sweetly and he felt her fingers curl against the skin of his shoulder. His leg slipped between hers and her eyes drifted shut.

_You're tearin' me apart_

_Every, every day_

_You're tearin' me apart_

_Oh what can I say?_

_You're tearin' me apart_

He pulled her up swiftly from a low dip. More of her hair had escaped its clasp and when her eyes opened, they were black as night. Her hand left his. Uncertainly, he moved his own now-freed hand to her hip. He could have moaned aloud when her leg skated up his as the song reached a subtle crescendo.

_It won't be long, yes, till you're alone_

_When your lover, oh, he hasn't come home_

_Cause he's lovin', he's touchin',_

_He's squeezin' another_

Without thought, he lifted her. She was light as a dream and soft like one, too. Her knees bent, gripped his hips as if she did this every day and the position put him at eye level with her breasts. Unlike the muggle girl's, they were full, firm, promising to spill over his hands when he squeezed them.

_He's tearin' you apart_

_Every, every day_

_He's tearin' you apart_

_Oh girl what can you say?_

Her fingers toyed at his nape, probably sampling the sweat that dripped there. Answering beads gathered on her chest, slipped between the distracting cleavage. He wondered how salty it would taste...

_Cause he's lovin', touchin' another_

_Now it's your turn girl to cry_

She threw her head at the song's climax, putting their faces together in a fall of dark and light locks. Their eyes met and Draco realised she'd been watching his lips. He tightened his hold beneath her bum, silently prepared her. She was ready when he lowered her.

_Na na na na na na_

_Na na na na na_

He twirled her tightly beneath his arm, close to his body. Stepped forward to stop her back against his chest. Her urged her arms upward, folded them around his neck and swayed with her. Closer than he'd been to the muggle girl. Closer than he'd ever been to anyone...

_Na na na na na na_

_Na na na na na_

The song had faded into another airy melody, but the Malfoys seemed stunned by their own actions. Draco's hands still rested on his mother's waist. She looked up at him awkwardly, turning her head backward. Her eyes posed a question to which he had no answer.

"Well, well, well Draco." Vic slapped his back. "I think Lena was right. The proper partner loosens you up quite nicely." Then he was shaking Narcissa's hand. "I do hope you'll join us again for Draco's next lesson?"

"Uh..." She stammered.

Draco wrapped an arm surely around her waist, smirked at Vic. "I'm sure she will."

"Excellent!" Vic smiled a charming muggle smile, tugged Lena to his side, and they danced away.

"See you tomorrow night, Draco!" Lena called out. "And you too, Narcissa!"

"Draco?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Take me home."

"Yes, mother."

They were quiet leaving the building. Draco had collected his jacket downstairs and led her to the walkway. She moved briskly and he wondered if she was angry at him. His body felt alight with some strange energy. At the muggle bridge, they saw the rubble and wreck of a landslide.

Narcissa paused, looked back. Seeing no one, she and Draco simply passed through the rubble. On the other side of the wards, she seemed to take her first breath. Let it out heavily. Draco chewed at his lip.

"No mentioning this to your father."

"Of course not." So at least she was speaking to him.

"And I still wish you'd just told me the truth."

"I know. I should have. I'm sorry."

She stopped on the trail. Turned to him quite helplessly. "Draco... What just happened?"

He shrugged. "We danced, mum. Just a dance." But it _wasn't _just a dance. He knew that. Wasn't foolish enough to believe such a lie. And he knew she knew it, too.

She looked up the side of the mountain toward their bungalow, then back to his earnest face. There was hope in her eyes. "Did you really mean it? That you would...take me back for your next lesson?"

His heartbeat quickened. "Did you enjoy it?"

She shook her head, not a negatory action, but one that spoke of abandoning sensibility. "I don't want to embarrass you. Your old mum coming along and -"

"No one has to know you're my mum!" He spoke quickly, nearly stumbling over the words. Truthfully, he didn't want them to know she was his mother - not out of embarrassment, as she seemed inclined to believe, but out of pure, deviant _want. If they don't know she's my mother, I can dance with her, know her, touch her and love her differently._ "And Vic was right. We danced well together!"

She turned away and started back up the walk. He followed behind her. They passed Carolyn's cottage - still twinkling and emitting a low hum of music and laughter. Narcissa cast a nervous glance to the dwindling get-together, hurried past. Draco noticed, but didn't speak of it.

Their bungalow came into view. Narcissa didn't pause inside, but headed down the hall toward her room. "Mother?"

She looked back. Her expression was hidden by darkness. "We'll talk tomorrow, Draco. I'm exhausted now."

He held the bannister on his stairs. "Are you angry with me?"

She was quiet a moment. Then: "No, darling. Get some sleep."

"But you'll come with me tomorrow then?" He needed to know. Wanted them to be secret together. Wanted to know she would be his if only on the dance floor, if only in anonymity.

Still she didn't turn. He didn't see her face. "Yes. I'll go."

The relief he felt was immeasurable. He watched her disappear into her room. Heard the door close softly. In his room, he fell onto the bed and grinned up at the ceiling. He dreamed the mambo...and his mother.

**AN: **Finally, dancing! _Twistin' the Night Away _belongs to Sam Cooke. _Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' _belongs to Journey. Carolyn Howe belongs to me...or I belong to her. I'm not quite clear on that yet. Thanks all for reading and reviewing and generally humoring me on this piece. I hope you're having as much fun as I am.


	6. I Wanna Dance with Somebody

Chapter Six: I Wanna Dance with Somebody

Narcissa was surprised to hear her husband's voice as she entered the kitchen the next morning. She was even more surprised to hear Draco's, and that the two voices were not quarreling or throwing insults. She stood in the doorway, watching them fuss with something on the island counter.

"Look, father. It still has to be hooked into this wall...er...orifice. Look at the prongs."

"I know, Draco. The prongs fit in the holes, but when I pressed the button there that says 'power' nothing happened."

"Oh, something happened." Draco was unraveling a long cord. "It was just static coming through. We'll plug it back in and move it over here."

"And what do you suppose that will accomplish, Draco?"

"Just watch. And listen." Draco plugged the radio's cord into an outlet on the opposing counter. He extended the long silver antennae straight up, and pressed a button. More static emerged.

Lucius nodded as though he'd expected this. "I think it's the wards, son. I'm afraid the muggle contraption isn't going to function properly."

Draco held up a hand, silencing his father without malice. He fiddled patiently with a few dials until a disembodied voice was heard at last - tinny and echoing. "_... so come to The Slaughtered Lamb tonight for the best live music this side of Cardiff with The Red Stripes at eight and Amber Jammers on at nine. That said, here's an hour of commercial free tuneage kicked off with Whitney Houston!_"

Draco spread his hands in victory, smiled at Lucius who shook his head. "Yes, yes, very good, son." He patted Draco's shoulder and winced at the noisy pop emerging from the small stereo. "You just enjoy that, then." He rolled his eyes at Narcissa as he approached her, obviously in a good humor.

She smiled. "Leaving, darling?"

"Quite." He kissed her cheek. "I've an appointment."

She straightened his cerulean tie. "As always."

"I'm sorry."

But she shrugged off the apology. "Enjoy your muggle finance talk."

"I will." He turned to Draco. "Be good to your mother. And don't torture her all day with muggle ruckus."

Draco made a face. "Good day, father."

Narcissa stood in the door even after Lucius' departure. She wasn't quite certain what should be said. _What does one say after dancing with one's son in such a way? _She chewed at her bottom lip.

Draco, seeming to realise her quandary, set about preparing the French press for coffees. She watched him go through the motions smoothly, practised - wandless hands making quick work of clumsy muggle tasks. _Just the way he dances. _

The muggle radio was a fine addition to the kitchen, though. Probably a gift from one of the Malfoy mens' muggle liaisons. It matched the day's bright sun with its vibrant sound.

Her foot tapped instinctively.

_Clock strikes upon the hour_

_And the sun begins to fade_

"Kettle's on."

"Hm?" She looked up. Draco leaned against the counter by the stove.

"I said the kettle's on," he repeated.

"Oh. Fine." She nodded. Smiled. Draco was nodding, too. Smiling.

_Still enough time to figure out_

_How to chase my blues away_

Nodding became bobbing. The beat demanded it. Narcissa grinned shyly when Draco swayed toward her, catching the tempo. Perhaps two steps away, he extended his hand expectantly, the expression on his face brooking no hesitation. She dropped her hand in his and he pulled her into step. _Apparently, no conversation is necessary._

_I've done alright up 'til now_

_It's the light of day that shows me how_

_And when the night falls... loneliness calls_

They were quick and lithe on their own, with no audience or crowds pressing in on them. The dance was informal - a sort of modified quickstep with elements of mambo thrown in here and there. Draco was easy to follow, and when he drew her close, dropped her into a low dip, she let her back arch confidently over his arm.

_Oh! I wanna dance with somebody_

_I wanna feel the heat with somebody_

_Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody _

_With somebody who loves me_

They laughed at missteps, glossed over them. When Narcissa swirled out, her skirt lifted prettily, revealing her shapely legs. Draco gave his own spin and dropped to his knees, careless of his dark trousers being sullied. He leaned back and away from her, watched as she free-styled above him.

_I've been in love and lost my senses_

_Spinning through the town_

_Sooner or later the fever ends_

_And I wind up feeling down_

Narcissa reached down, urged her son to rise. And he did, bringing her up in a lift. She gasped surprise, felt the strength in his arms, the fingers clutching her waist. "Ah!"

_I need a man who'll take a chance_

_On a love that burns hot enough to last_

He gave her a turn before lowering her slowly, letting her slide the full length of his taut form. Her light cotton skirt ascended as she descended, revealing creamy thigh. Draco reached for her knee just before her feet touched the floor and pulled it up his hip. She braced with her other leg, leaned forward into his angle.

_So when the night falls _

_My lonely heart calls_

Her eyes met his. Her hands were certain, fingers curling in his own or over his shoulder. But her eyes... They betrayed any certainty and Draco wondered if she could feel his heart beating so quickly, feel his errant breath on her face, or the erection he couldn't have controlled if he'd wanted to.

He stared down at her, maybe swayed her just a little closer. Her lips parted. Inside the 'v' of her strappy sundress, her lovely breasts rose and fell in pace with his pulse. He saw a drop of sweat skate from the top of one lush curve into the inviting valley between them and salivated.

"Draco?" Her mouth was gorgeous when it said his name. He wanted to taste the word on her tongue...

But it wasn't to be. Again Fate - the fickle cunt who had never dealt him a fair hand - saw fit to flaunt her unfairness.

The kettle screamed loudly at them, making Narcissa jolt in his arms. "Shite!" As soon as he stepped away to remove the kettle from the burner, they were further unsettled by knocking at the screen door.

Narcissa was frozen, it seemed. She caught Draco's glance as he maneuvered the kettle to make coffee. "Well?" He demanded.

"What?" She hissed.

"Get the door, mum!" He was opening cabinets, scrambling for cups and saucers.

"Oh!" _The Door. Right. _She scrambled at the muggle stereo for a moment before managing to silence it. Her hands fussed at loose strands of hair and straightened her frock on the way to answer their caller.

It was Carolyn. She did not look pleased. Narcissa frowned guiltily as she opened the door. "Hello," she mumbled.

Carolyn's pursed lips pursed further. She shifted her hips. "And hello to you." She blinked, waiting for something.

"Oh, come in then," Narcissa stepped aside.

"Don't be so welcoming." Her friend groused. "It's only beginning to rain, after all." Once inside, Carolyn gave their bungalow a full tour with one appraising sweep of her eyes. "Nice place," she said.

Narcissa winced. "Thank you. Draco is preparing coffee if you'd like a cup?" She started toward the kitchen, felt Carolyn's eyes burning into her back. She knew Carolyn had come for answers.

In the kitchen, Draco took in Carolyn's presence with near non-expression. Resigned, he produced another cup and placed it on the breakfast bar. Carolyn smirked at his apathy toward her and leaned saucily on the counter. "Hello...lover," she purred. Draco scowled. Plunked the sugar bowl in front of her. Carolyn slid it toward Narcissa. "No thanks, dahling. I'm sweet enough."

He scoffed and went about preparing his own coffee and his mother's. Carolyn focused her stare on an increasingly uncomfortable Narcissa. "Going to tell me where you disappeared to last night?"

Cissa shook her head. She preferred not to discuss the previous evening in front of her son...or in front of Carolyn. Hell, she hadn't even discussed the previous evening with herself.

But Carolyn went on without any explanation, anyway. In fact, Carolyn seemed to have a fair piece of rant inside. "Taking off without so much as a by your leave! I'm surprised at you. And several people were asking after you, you know. People who hadn't even had a chance to say hello!"

"Carolyn, I didn't even know anyone - "

"Well, of course not! You didn't linger long enough to make any acquaintances, did you?"

She sniffed. "Not to mention poor Nico."

Narcissa blustered a bit. "Poor Nico?! Carolyn -"

"He was looking about for you for the longest time, hoping you would return. Positively lovelorn, the dear boy."

"Who's Nico?" Draco asked, suddenly interested.

"No one," Narcissa said quickly.

Carolyn, however, answered. "Only the most delectable Italian treat ever crafted, my boy." Draco's nostrils flared and his face reddened. He looked sharply at his mother. Narcissa looked desperate to control a rapidly spiraling situation. "And after one dance, my friend decided to abandon said treat in a haste. Leaving guess who to see to his needs? Me. _That's_ who."

Draco suddenly stepped away from the counter. Narcissa stiffened as he made for the door. "Draco!"

"All night long, Narcissa!" Carolyn complained loudly. "All night! I'm positively chafed!"

The front door banged loudly and Narcissa was on her feet, following after her son. "Draco, wait!"

"Where are you going?" Carolyn asked, watching Narcissa beat another hasty retreat from her presence.

"Do you ever use an ounce of discretion?" Cissa snapped over her shoulder. She left Carolyn alone in the quiet kitchen, a wave of awkward and rush hanging in the air.

Carolyn winced at the slamming of the screen door. She sat stunned for a moment. Reached for the creamer. Stirring her coffee, realisation dawned. "Ohhh, damn my mouth," she muttered. She blew a breath through dark bangs, wondering how she would word _this_ apology.

"Draco!" Narcissa called to him but he wouldn't stop. She scurried after him, ballet style slippers allowing sharp stone to stab her tender feet. "Ouch," she muttered. He was making his way deftly up a path that ran behind their bungalow. His black clad back ignored her. "Draco, please."

"Please what?" He called behind him. "Please suffer that intolerable witch? Or suffer hearing the truth from that intolerable witch?"

"What truth?" Narcissa asked. He'd finally slowed slightly and she was only a step or two away from him. "I think you have the wrong impression, darling."

"Don't 'darling' me." He griped. "You want to go off making a scene of yourself with some...young foreign wizard beneath your station while my father is off playing golfs and trading pork bunyons, that's fine. But don't come to me in the meantime and act as if my dancing with muggles is some great debacle!"

"I never did that!" She reached for his arm and grabbed it. Draco whirled to face her. They were in a clutch of dense firs, rain beginning to pelt in earnest. Somewhere she heard water rushing. "I never judged your dancing, Draco! For Circe's sake, I danced _with _ you!" She didn't quite understand his anger over this issue.

"But you don't deny you're looking to replace my father?"

Her eyes narrowed. It was becoming rather clear. "Draco..." She couldn't tell if the drops on his face were rain or tears. "You heard what Carolyn said. I left her party. I spent most of my evening with you. Dancing." She watched his breathing slow. "If I was looking to 'replace' your father, I had ample opportunity to do so last night." She stepped up closer. "But I didn't. Did I?"

Draco shook his head. "I suppose not."

"Why are you angry at me?"

His expression went from sullen to pained. He looked away from her. "I don't _know_," he cried. "I shouldn't be! And it shouldn't matter because..." He gestured to her helplessly. "Because even if you wanted to - to take some other wizard..." His mouth worked oddly. "Well, perhaps you should." He looked down. "You're so young, mum...so bloody _beautiful _-"

"Oh, Draco!" She cut him off. On her toes and in his arms. She hugged him with abandon, breath catching when he returned the rough embrace. He smelled of spice - something sweet and tempting. "I'm so sorry, " she gasped, not really certain what she was sorry for but terrified at the same time.

"Me, too." Draco buried his face in her hair. The rain was beginning to fall heavily. He held her head in his hands, pushed it away to regard her. His eyes were silver intensity. Thumbs stroked her temples.

Narcissa closed her eyes. Her body bristled under his touch and she pressed closer to his warmth. She watched his nostrils flare, watched him fight something - something as strong as the thing she fought - the thing that threatened to put them together and tear them apart. "Draco..." A warning. A confession.

His lip curled and he pressed his mouth suddenly, hotly to her forehead. "Shhh." He whispered there. Her stomach unclenched, but still she trembled. "Starting to rain." His hands trembled, too. He rubbed them over her bare shoulders. "We should get back. I imagine your dear friend is worrying."

She scoffed. The hot breath puffed against his neck and his hands tightened briefly on her arms. "Doubtful."

He grunted. Or it was an aborted moan. "Come on. Let's go." They made their way over the slickening rocks back to the bungalow.

Indeed, Carolyn stood at the screen door, watching for them. She held the door as they rushed inside, dripping on the porch's whitewashed boards. "Narcissa," she spoke urgently.

"Come in, Carolyn." Narcissa said calmly. She drew her wand and cast a drying charm on herself and her son. "Let's have that coffee, shall we?"

"Oh, Cissa I truly must apologise to you!" Carolyn wrung her hands, genuinely upset.

"And you may do so over that coffee. Draco?" Once inside, she glanced back to her son, waiting for him.

He shook his head. "I believe I'll have a lie down, mum. If you'll both excuse me?"

"But Draco! Please." Carolyn reached for his arm, just touched it. It was cool. "I wanted to...apologise to you, as well." Her face colored.

Draco smirked. "Then let's say you just did. And I accepted. Right?"

"I just want you to know I exaggerate. I always have! And that I can assure you your mother is not the type of witch who would –"

"I know the type of witch my mother is, Ms. Howe." Draco's eyes lingered on Narcissa, who smiled softly, secretly.

Carolyn's eyes flicked between the two. The eyes of one who understood themselves to be an encroacher. "I see," she said slowly. And perhaps she did see. But if she did, she made no mention of it. For once, she kept conjecture to herself and her lips shut against sarcasm. She watched Draco climb the stairs, then watched Narcissa cast a warming charm on their coffees. Almost dreading, she sat at the counter.

Her coffee was as black as her new mood… "I am truly sorry, Narcissa. I don't think sometimes. But that's no excuse. And I humiliated you before your boy, and possibly endangered your relationship with your husband."

Narcissa stirred a dose of sugar into her coffee. "I know you well enough, Carolyn, to know that you meant no harm." She sighed. "My relationship with my husband is already endangered through no fault of yours. And my son understands probably even more than I know he does." She looked at her friend. "I accept your apology."

"Thank you." Bearing reading she was glad to have such nasty business behind her, Carolyn leaned forward. She seemed hesitant in her next question. "Narcissa…is everything alright?"

Cissa hesitated, too. "Yes? Or it will be." She shook her head, conceding the truth. "I don't know, Carolyn."

"Well." Carolyn raised her cup. "I'm here. And believe it or not, I can be a confidante, should you need one."

A smirk. "I _don't_ believe it."

"Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, once in a while."

"Did you really take that Italian to bed?"

A pause while Carolyn's lips pursed. (Narcissa raised her eyebrows expectantly.) A tisk. "Oh, I practically _had to_!" She groused.

Cissa couldn't contain her laugh. "Gods, Carolyn…"

"Stop!" Carolyn cried. "He was meant for _you_! I was a consolation prize, at best." Chuckling, she waved a hand. "Not that you missed anything spectacular."

"Oh?"

"No," Carolyn stressed. "No 'Oh,' at all! That was the bloody problem! So much promise and so little imagination…"

"How disappointing." Narcissa frowned. It was a genuine empathy that only another woman could exhibit.

"All that firm, young flesh…" Carolyn flicked at a crumb sullenly. "Not to mention a truly spectacular cock. Hmph. Just wasted."

The witches sighed in unison, as if in mourning for what could have been. A silence fell to drape the grief. Carolyn was remembering handsome Italian features, chiseled belly muscles and their ultimate betrayal of expectations. But Narcissa was remembering Draco's trembling hands on her shoulders, the softness of his lips on her forehead, and the shameful disappointment in _not_ being kissed by her own son.

**AN: **Thanks again, all - for sticking with me through yet another surreal romp through my imaginings. Also thanks to Whitney Houston - Goddess bless her beautiful soul. _I Wanna Dance with Somebody _belongs to her. I merely borrowed the song for my Malfoys to enjoy. I miss you dearly, Whitney... Next chapter, more dancing ensures Narcissa will indeed feel the heat with somebody.


	7. Sweet Talking

Chapter 7: Sweet Talking

The Malfoys - for the most part - danced. The lesser part of the Malfoys financed. Lucius had become almost disturbingly embroiled in the surprisingly complicated world of muggle economics. He read books. Perused newspapers. He listened to a dreadfully boring radio programme about stock markets, subjecting his wife and son to the droning voice of the programme's host and his own non-committal grunts.

He was often seen at the breakfast, brunch, lunch or dinner table furiously scribbling figures upon whatever paper surface was available. His golf games were increasing in frequency, and he'd taken to discussing things like 'holes' and 'swings' and 'handicaps' with relish. Narcissa envied the clubs, resented the little white balls that clattered from the oversized bag and rolled about underfoot.

And one afternoon, Lucius Malfoy produced a mobile phone from inside his khaki trouser pocket. He began pressing buttons.

Narcissa gaped, slightly masticated toast visible. (Draco could tell she was truly astounded. His mother would _never _chew with her mouth open.) "What the devil is that?" She demanded.

Draco watched the exchange with a smirk. He knew she knew right well what it was. She'd seen Vic and the other dancers use their mobiles often enough. But he was genuinely interested to hear his father's response (and interest in anything his father said was rare). Entertainment seemed so scarce these days...

"It's a mobile phone, darling." Lucius was looking at the phone's screen - not his wife.

She spluttered a bit. "Why do you have it?"

"Hm?" He was completely distracted. "Excuse me a moment, love." He left the table, phone to his ear.

Draco watched Narcissa's lips purse. She folded her serviette violently in her lap. "Mum?"

Her eyes cut to Draco. They were a blue reflecting the stormy sky overhead. "We've dancing class tonight," he smiled.

She relaxed. Her own small smile tugged at pretty lips. "Yes, we have," she affirmed. They ignored Lucius' obnoxious background laughter, the secret they shared making them feel somehow stronger - united together.

They'd danced together for nine nights now. Vic had been impressed with their abilities, their smoothness. Draco remembered a private conversation with Vic. They'd spoken in hushed tones, watching Narcissa and Lena practice the Cha Cha...

"_She's a lovely partner, you found." Vic focused on the ladies' feet, listened to the synchronised stoccatto of their heels on hardwood._

_Draco was uncertain how to respond. "Thanks?"_

_Vic smirked, recognised that Draco wasn't completely comfortable in this discussion. "She married?"_

"_What?" Draco blinked, gaze flitting between his mother and Lena and Vic's suspicious face._

"_Look, mate." Vic leveled. "I know what it's like being your age. I'm not so far gone I've forgotten. And these...older birds... Gods, they're irresistible. Inattentive husbands. Nothing better to do than manicures, pedicures and seducing the eager young guests -"_

_Draco couldn't contain his laugh. "Woah, Vic. Listen -"_

"_No, Draco. You listen." Vic turned serious. "My first was just like her. And she broke my heart. I'll never forget her." He took a swig of water from a plastic bottle. "And I'll never forgive her, either." He folded a hand over Draco's shoulder. "I just don't want to see it happen to you."_

_Draco stared at the floor, turning his grin into a grimace resembling understanding. "I'll keep that in mind, Vic. Truly. I er... I appreciate the advice." _

"_Hey, Draco!" Lena saved him from further embarrassment. "Come out here and put your skills to work. I'd like to see you take Cissa through the basic tango." _

_He'd taken his mother's hand, smoothly transitioning into a dance. Their bodies molded together to glide across the floor. Over her shoulder, he'd caught Vic's knowing stare..._

He hadn't dared tell his mother of the exchange. Couldn't imagine what her reaction might be, though he both hoped for and feared her laughter.

"Well." Lucius was suddenly - coolly - back to the table. "I've a bit of exciting news."

"Oh?" Draco asked. He could see from Narcissa's current carriage she would hold no further truck with Lucius.

But Lucius, as usual, didn't seem to mind. "I've just spoken with Harris. He and some of the chaps are going up to take a look at some investment properties on the other side of the muggle resort. They've invited me along." He snapped into a bacon rasher. "Value my opinion, he says," he mumbled round a mouthful of bacon. "How about that?"

"Congratulations," Narcissa clipped. She pushed away from the table. "Please excuse me now, husband. Draco."

Lucius watched her leave, audacious enough to wear confusion. He sighed. "I had hoped she would be pleased. I'm fulfilling my sentencing obligations, and if all goes well, we may come out just a bit wealthier for this."

Draco waved a rasher matter of factly. "I think she hoped we would spend more time together as a family, father. Perhaps?"

Lucius scowled, but mostly at himself. He stared into his tea, muttered: "I think she hoped for more than that."

"Pardon?" But Draco had heard him quite clearly.

"Nothing." The older wizard gathered himself, straightened his forest green polo shirt. "Well. That being said, I'll be leaving this afternoon. We expect to return Monday or Tuesday." He frowned. "I suppose I'll deliver that news to her now. Get it over with." He made to rise.

"I'll tell her, father." Draco said congenially. "She's probably off for a constitutional. I know where to find her." Lucius seemed to relax a bit. "Why don't you get packed and ready for your trip?"

"Thank you, Draco." His eyes narrowed at his son. "You're good with your mother, you know?"

"What?" A momentary flash of panic.

"You understand her," Lucius clarified. It was Draco's turn to relax. "I understood her once..." He seemed to dwell for a moment, stroked his chin. But eventually shook himself. "Talk to your mother then." He stood. "Tell her I won't be leaving until two o' clock."

"Yes, father. And father?" Lucius paused. Looked back. Draco smiled. "Good luck." It was already near noon. Hopefully, he wouldn't see his father again for... He ticked off fingers. _Today is Thursday. Three days._ Draco steepled his fingers beneath his chin. _Three days alone with her. Maybe even four. _His mind worked countless equations. He left the table purposely, knowing where to find her.

There was a spring behind the bungalow. Just up the path. If one followed the little rushing brook for a time, one reached a clearing and a sizable spring. There was even a waterfall, the tiers creating a vibrant, alluring rush. Here the slate was mossy and soft, perfect for dancing barefoot. And Draco liked dancing barefoot. He felt almost more certain of himself without shoes between himself and the ground.

Here was where he and his mother practiced together - where they sneaked off with the muggle stereo and learned the tango, cha cha, mambo and samba. Here they perfected their turns, their timing; tripped over eager toes and tangled awkward arms. Here they laughed over the sound of falling water and grew perfect together. Here, he knew she would be.

He heard the muggle stereo as he approached. It was the noon hour, after all, and she liked the local station's softer fare. A muggle woman was singing something about clouds in her coffee... _Weird muggles. _A straight back met him - curls dark and light tumbling down the pale skin. She sat upon a sizable tree, felled by some storm or another. The sky blue blouse she wore was backless, cut into a 'v' and tied behind her neck. It was an arrow directing his eyes downward to caress her shapely hips. His hands had held those hips...

"Draco?"

He looked up, blinking, and found her staring at him over her shoulder. He approached her. "I have...news."

"Oh?" Her eyes were round staring up at him. Beautiful. She reached beside her and lowered the volume just slightly on the stereo.

He sat beside her, shifting against the scratchy bark until his hip met hers. "Father's going away for a few days."

"Hasn't he been away this entire time?"

_You're so vain_

_You probly think this song is about you_

Draco smirked, but there was little mirth in the expression. "He's leaving around two o'clock." The high sun sent a shaft of warm light through the green canopy above them. Birds sang along with the muggle on the radio. Crickets kept time. Narcissa was quiet. They simply listened to nature, the music and their own beating hearts.

"It's really beautiful here," Draco murmured. Almost as if the silence was too much to fill.

"It is."

She looked so sad. He reached for her face. When she flinched away, his insistent fingers took hold of her chin. "You're really beautiful," he whispered. A little fear tightened his throat after the admission.

Her eyes widened, locked with his. She found truth in the blue hues. "Sweet talking me?" She asked, attempting a laugh. Draco smiled relief, pleased she'd been receptive to the compliment - even if she was surprised.

Then the music shifted, as it is apt to do. Softened. A swaying beat. Another muggle woman's sensual voice invited them to slow dance. Narcissa stood abruptly and stepped from her slippers. He watched the muscles in her back flex when she stretched. Then she turned to face him. "Draco." She raised her arms, postured properly. "Come."

Relieved smile turned barely hidden grin and he stepped into the waiting arms. Kicked off his own loafers. The moss tickled in between his toes. But she didn't dance as he expected. Rather than her disciplined tension, she was malleable and lax. She pressed close, laid her head against his chest.

_Billy Ray was the preacher's son_

_And when his daddy would visit he'd come along_

_When they gathered round and started talkin'_

_That's when Billy would take me walkin'_

_A-through the backyard we'd go walkin'_

_Then he'd look into my eyes_

_Lord knows to my surprise_

Draco rubbed his nose against the part in her hair. The top of her head was warm where she'd sat in the sun. He was concerned about her, unaccustomed to such vulnerability in the tough, pragmatic witch. He felt the satin skin of her back with every shift of their bodies. Wondered if she felt the stickiness of his slightly sweaty, nervous fingers.

_The only one who could ever reach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man_

_The only boy who could ever teach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man_

Soon the sound of the falls in the background, the eddies swirling in the creek, the gurgle of the lagoon behind them had Narcissa heavy-lidded and easy in his arms. In and out of cool shadow, they danced. Draco blended their newly learned tango with their informal sway. This dance was new to them, so they were conservative - strides shorter and looser than technically required, spins slower. But this was more intimate than any technical tango. Feeling a flutter in her belly when he encircled her from behind, Draco knew this.

_Being good isn't always easy_

_No matter how hard I try_

_When he started sweet-talkin' to me_

_He'd come and tell me everything is all right_

_He'd kiss and tell me everything is all right_

_Can I get away again tonight?_

Even barefoot - relying on her son's strength - Narcissa was able to bend backward into a low dip. Her leg curled, slid up Draco's, up his thigh and over his hip. He acted smoothly, took hold of the cool, creamy leg to support her gorgeous curve. His eyes drank in the bare stomach revealed to him by her untucked blouse, nostrils flaring when he barely peeked at the edge of her brassiere. Her hair brushed the moss behind her when he swung her - brought her slowly, slowly back up and against his chest.

_The only one who could ever reach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man_

_The only boy who could ever teach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man_

_Yes he was, he was_

_(Ooh...) Lord knows he was_

_Yes he was_

She prayed a silent prayer to the goddess - a prayer for resistance. Draco felt dreamlike against her; solid, sinewy and sweet. She felt his hard bones, the expanse of his shoulders, the tension of muscle in his arms and the rough scratch of his fingers on her thigh and bare back. When he brought her back to her feet, his hand was still beneath her loose skirt, high on her thigh. She took a deep breath of him and felt her own fingers tighten around his neck.

_How well I remember_

_The look that was in his eyes_

_Stealin' kisses from me on the sly_

_Takin' time to make time_

_Tellin' me that he's all mine_

_Learnin' from each other's knowing_

_Lookin' to see how much we've grown_

She was suffocated by want. Using their unspoken communication - learned through dance - she pushed gently against his ribs with her elbow, indicating she wanted a swing-out. He granted the wish, whirling her away beneath his arm. But when he pulled her swiftly back, she caught his eyes and lost her footing. "Ooph." She thudded against his frame, caused them both to momentarily unbalance.

_And the only one who could ever reach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man_

_The only boy who could ever teach me_

_Was the son of a preacher man..._

They'd paused to get their footing, but they couldn't seem to calm the trembling in their bodies."Alright?" His voice was hoarse, reluctant. He held her by the waist and wrist, steadying her tightly.

Her breath seemed shallow and scarce. She couldn't seem to breathe. "I'm fine," she whispered. His neck bent so awkwardly when he looked at her face. "Just..." _Just what?_

The song shifted. A muggle man was singing.

_She can kill with a smile_  
_She can wound with her eyes_  
_She can ruin your faith with her casual lies_  
_And she only reveals what she wants you to see_  
_She hides like a child_  
_But she's always a woman to me_

Draco's forehead creased. "Just what, mother?"

She tugged her arm and he released it. "Just...thinking we should get back to the bungalow. See your father off."

His jaw worked, lips tightened. "If you like." His arm fell away from her waist. Was it disappointment that stiffened his frame so?

_She can lead you to love_  
_She can take you or leave you_  
_She can ask for the truth_  
_But she'll never believe_  
_And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free_  
_Yeah, she steals like a thief_  
_But she's always a woman to me_

Narcissa immediately missed his contact._ I didn't say I would 'like' to... _She watched him gather the muggle stereo. Once it silenced abruptly, she heard the true density of birdsong in this haven. She closed her eyes for a moment, felt the thrill his touch had left in her body subsiding.

But when she opened her eyes, he was gone. She saw his back weaving through the light foliage as he made way to the path. A pang of something stabbed through her heart, deep into her belly. _Damn. _She blinked back tears. _What is happening to us?_

**AN: **Okay, let's see... Briefly we heard _You're So Vain _from Carly Simon. Our forest dance was brought to you by Dusty Springfield's _Son of a Preacher Man. _And Billy Joel sang us out with _She's Always a Woman to Me. _Starting to feel a little bit like a disc jockey over here. Not complaining. I used to entertain fantasies of being the voice on the airwaves when I was a teenager. But, alas, video killed the radio star and I don't think it's been convicted yet. I promise you smut is approaching. I know I make you wait, but have I ever disappointed?


	8. That Old Black Magic

Chapter 8: That Old Black Magic

Her son avoided her for the rest of the afternoon and Narcissa let him. She kept herself busy with some clothing alterations, creating more dance-friendly skirts on several frocks and extending the heels on a few pairs of shoes. Lena had explained that the heels would help her balance, but truthfully Narcissa quite simply liked the look of her

legs in them. She also strengthened an elaborate peacock hair clip, needing better control of her now too-long locks.

She didn't think of her encounter with Draco in the forest clearing. Or the one in her bedroom. She didn't think of the way they danced together - how it was as close to making love as she'd been in years. How she longed for more...

She shook her head and tossed a frock onto her bed - violet, this evening - a satin number that wrapped her and swirled like cream into coffee. In her bath, she considered her husband; wondered where he was now, what he was doing, and if he thought of her. She wondered if he'd stopped loving her before or after the Dark Lord had so thoroughly unmanned him, because she knew that whatever had once existed between them that could have been called loving was long gone. _Or perhaps I don't understand his new language...and he doesn't understand mine._

Steam rose like an opiate and her eyes fluttered closed. She was too tired to consider too deeply. Accidentally, she slept, and woke when her water was cool.

His mother avoided him for the rest of the afternoon and Draco let her. Lying on his bed, he heard water running beneath him and set aside _The Wizard of Oz. _ He stared at the ceiling and pondered how truly fucked up his family had become, soothing strains from the muggle stereo punctuating his thoughts.

_She said, "There is no reason _

_And the truth is plain to see." _

_But I wandered through my playing cards _

_And they would not let her be _

_One of sixteen vestal virgins _

_Who were leaving for the coast _

_And although my eyes were open wide_

_They might have just as well been closed _

He knew she was bathing down there and tried not to think of it - of her pale moist skin that he'd seen dewy with sweat or the stern definition in her backbone's design. He tried to recall her as 'mother,' not temptress; tried to recall her nurturing, her succor. But it seemed every kiss, every touch, every held hand in his memory warped into something deviant and damning. How she flirted with the same damned deviance and pulled away each time. He knew her fear was founded and utterly reasonable, but he also knew the fact that she feared at all was intoxicating and proof positive she felt some similar dark pull.

_And so it was that later _

_As the miller told his tale _

_That her face, at first just ghostly, _

_Turned a whiter shade of pale_

Then there was a sub-knowledge that gnawed at his psyche like a beast from below: the knowledge that other than being just witch, just his mother - she was a woman. An essential, soft, feminine, sensual presence that no matter how blood-relative was also a sirens' call to guaranteed downfall. And Carolyn - in her infinite propensity to open her mouth and insert her foot - had made it quite clear that the witch-mother-woman was, indeed, wanting. He _hated_ to see her wanting for anything, wondered how his father coped with seeing his wife unsatisfied. Draco couldn't help imagining himself dashed on the rocks by doomed incestuous love, drowned between her firm, smooth thighs. He clenched his eyes tight and groaned.

_She said, "I'm here on a shore leave,"_

_Though we were miles at sea._

_I pointed out this detail_

_And forced her to agree, _

_Saying, "You must be the mermaid_

_Who took King Neptune for a ride."_

_And she smiled at me so sweetly_

_That my anger straightway died._

_Perhaps I should go, _he thought. Neither of them would begrudge his leaving Mont Blanc. His father seemed distracted enough by muggle relations and his mother... He scowled. _Perhaps I should not go. _Thoughts of grubby Italian fingers plumbing her pale skin and pink depths made him nauseous. _Hell to that._

_If music be the food of love_

_Then laughter is it's queen_

_And likewise if behind is in front_

_Then dirt in truth is clean_

_My mouth by then like cardboard_

_Seemed to slip straight through my head_

_So we crash-dived straightway quickly_

_And attacked the ocean bed _

Then what was to be done? He glanced out his window. Evening had fallen quickly. If he'd had a wand, he would have cast a tempus charm. But apparently Dorothy and her companions, tripping in their field of poppies, seemed to speed time along a touch. Soon he and his mother would go to their lesson; face Vic and Lena, face the other hundred muggle faces, face the music and dance. His heart hurt in his chest. _I can't have her..._

"Draco?"

He looked to the door, to her voice and his heart hurt a little harder. She was stunning. "Mother." His voice cracked a little.

"Were you sleeping?"

"No." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. "Is it time?"

_And so it was that later _

_As the miller told his tale _

_That her face, at first just ghostly, _

_Turned a whiter shade of pale_

"Yes. Unless we wish to be scolded for tardiness like last time." Her heels clicked. She held out a hand to him, helped him to his feet. "And I do hate being scolded."

He smirked. "Especially by muggles?" She smelled like day blooming jasmine and body-warmed dusting powder. A fragrance he would have to deal with all night in close proximity. _Bloody wonderful. _When had he become so damned sarcastic?

And why the hell was her back so naked lately? She'd turned to silence the stereo and offered him a view of muscle and bone that warred with resistance. He imagined licking his way down that well-cast column...

They made their way down the now well-known stone path gracefully, sometimes arm-in-arm. Even in this most practical sense they were dancers, Draco often sweeping Narcissa over a patch of loose stone or shallow puddle. Her feet were quite exposed in the strappy purple heels, and a tiny pebble under a toe was annoyance at best.

Narcissa had taken a hiding place for her wand just beneath the bridge and on the muggle side of the wards. They could cross the magical boundary without it, but Narcissa was more secure having it near hand in magical territory. Strangely, she felt relatively secure without it when she was with the muggles.

The clubhouse was bustling with activity. Upstairs, men and women mingled on the balcony. A few who recognised Narcissa and Draco smiled or waved. The Malfoys waved back. The drink had been flowing liberally, so even the muggles who didn't know them waved.

Upstairs, Lena and Vic were waiting, running through a few steps. Draco and Narcissa watched from the doorway. It was a quickstep, with a few elements of cha cha and samba thrown in for good measure. "Early tonight!" Lena called as she twirled past.

"Pay attention," Vic added. They were barely winded. "You'll be doing this next. We want to see you mix it up tonight."

Draco winced. The music was fast and he was less certain when it came to freestyle. He found he liked the regimented aspect of dance moreso than the experimental aspect...unless of course he was barefoot on moss with his mother.

"Sounds fun." Narcissa murmured beside him. She stroked his wrist.

"Right." Draco removed his jacket. Hung it over the back of a chair. When Vic and Lena's song ended, he stepped into the center of the floor.

"We'll start you out a bit slower," Vic assured. He fiddled with the shining discs where muggles stored their music, exchanging the one in the stereo.

"Thank goodness," Draco muttered.

Narcissa smiled as she stepped up to him. "I'm yours to command, darling," she breathed.

Draco blinked as the music took over. _Are you? _He wondered. His belly flipped at the possibilities in her innocent words. Drums and horns overpowered his ruminations. He simply took the lead, looking down only once to check her footing.

_That old black magic has me in its spell_

_That old black magic that you weave so well_

_Icy fingers up and down my spine_

_That same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine._

The lyrics were not lost on the Malfoys. Occasionally, Narcissa caught Draco's eye and winked. They moved well, as usual; quick steps, turns and half-turns, spin after spin. Truthfully, Draco simply liked watching his mother's skirt swirl upward, reveal her porcelain thighs.

_That same old tingle that I feel inside_

_When that elevator starts its ride_

_'Round and 'round I go, up and down I go_

_Like a leaf that's caught in the tide._

And truthfully, Narcissa liked the brush of his touch against her back when he pushed her out, or brought her in. The crashing tempo of the drums and the way he lunged with the sound. Occasionally, Vic or Lena counted, called out some pointer or another.

_I should stay away but what can I do?_

_I hear your name and I'm aflame_

_A flame with such a burning desire_

_That only your kiss, kiss, kiss can put out the fire._

"One, two, three! One, two, three!" Vic counted. "Watch that heel, Draco! Narcissa, shoulders back."

They followed the commands, for the most part. But as usual, soon Vic was frustrated with them. "Come on, come on!" He called. "This isn't baby town frolics! Tighten it up and remember the steps!"

_You're the lover that I've waited for_

_The mate that fate had me created for_

_And every time your lips meet mine_

_Baby, 'round and 'round I go, up and down I go_

_In a spin, I'm loving that spin that I'm in_

_Under that old black magic called love._

But it was easy to forget the steps when she smiled like that, when their shoulders bumped and they laughed. When her heel scuffed too hard on the wood, or she swung left when he expected right. This was when they were free, and even in the eyes of these two muggles, they could relax. They separated from all else, swept up in the music and each other.

_I should stay away but what can I do?_

_I should stay away but what can I do?_

_I should stay away_

_I should stay away but what can I do?_

"Alright, alright!" Vic silenced the stereo. The Malfoys swirled gracefully to a halt, Narcissa curled into Draco's arm. Vic sighed heavily. "Maybe we got a bit ahead of ourselves tonight with the freestyle."

"Aw, Vic. Come on!" Lena supported them from her perch at the window. "I thought they were lovely together!"

"Thank you, Lena," Draco stressed. He wiped sweat from his brow. He'd not released his mother.

"Look." Vic kept the peace, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm not arguing the two of you..._dance_...well together." A pointed look at Draco. "But even in a freestyle you need a semblance of direction. Of purpose. You danced just now like it was...filler!"

"Filler?!" Narcissa rarely took issue with Vic's instruction, but when she did she was quite vehement.

Lena stepped in. Literally. "I think I know what Vic is _trying_ very unsuccessfully to say." She took Narcissa's hand, tugged gently. "Let me show you?" Narcissa nodded and Draco reluctantly released her. "It's just a bit too...showy," Lena explained. She twirled Cissa a few times. "Too many flashy moves."

"Exactly." Vic clapped his hands in relief, pleased his partner had translated him so well. "You forget the _steps_! In all the twirling and changes and swings you forget the _steps. _And that's where the real art is." He pointed. "In your feet." He waved his hands dismissively. "Let's mix it up. Draco? Dance with Lena." He stopped at the stereo again, missed the almost panicked look between the Malfoys. "Narcissa. You'll dance with me."

An instrumental kicked on. Slower than the previous song. "Well, come on." Vic motioned impatiently and Narcissa stepped into his space. "Focusing on the steps. Follow me, please."

Vic was a more demanding partner. Narcissa felt stiff in his arms. His fingers were wrong at her waist, the tips too cool on her back. But she was able to focus most implicitly on his steps; followed him through a slowed cha cha, into a bit of a samba. "Loosen up, Narcissa."

"Sorry." She rolled her neck once. Attempted to relax. But it felt too wrong.

Vic sighed. "You don't dance with Draco like this." He spoke softly now, watching Lena and Draco dance a few feet away. "Why is that?"

Narcissa blushed. "I - I -" She stumbled a bit, toe connecting with Vic's shoe. "Ow!"

"Sorry." It was his turn to apologise. But she wasn't off the hook. "I like Draco. He's a good boy. But he's young." Cissa's eyes were wide with surprise at the conversation's turn. They slowed even further. "You seem like a real lady," Vic continued. "But I can't help imagining you're a _married _lady." He gave her a stiff half-turn. "Am I right?"

"Er..." She was wholly uncertain how to answer this question. And while she should have been livid at the muggle's audacity, she was more...touched. By his care for her son. More impressed by his forward manner. He was a bit like Carolyn, but without the flowery fluff and the blasé delivery. "I'm..."

"You don't have to answer." Vic saved her from a graceless minute of stammering and tripping over her own feet. "Just know I don't want to see him hurt. Or you. Right?"

She nodded, felt her muscles moving without her into a formal dip. When he raised her again, Vic nodded back. "Good." He stepped away abruptly and clapped for attention. "Let's switch again. And remember to focus on the bloody steps this time!"

Draco approached his mother slightly winded but grinning. Lena had given him a thorough thrashing on the floor. His grin fell when he saw her face. "Mother?" He whispered discretely. His hands fell on her shoulders. "Merlin, you're pale. You alright?"

She nodded. Took a deep breath. "I'm fine." The music started. They heard Vic and Lena take up a mambo. "It's nothing." She encouraged him to begin moving. "Let's just focus on the steps."

Forehead creased with worry, Draco guided her. He focused on the steps and missed the smile on her face, and the softness of her skin beneath his fingers.

**AN: **_Whiter Shade of Pale _is by Procol Harum. I don't really have any idea what it means, but I think there's something relative there. (Pardon the pun.) My version of _That Old Black Magic _ is from Sarah Vaughn and is quintessential swing. Oh my goddess... I am so excited for the next chapter, you guys. And if the wait has seemed long, I would just like to say that... I never meant to cause you any trouble... Never meant to cause you any pain...


	9. Weekend Lovers

**Caution: **Nothing but shameless smut - my birthday gift to myself.

Chapter 9: Weekend Lovers

"Mother! Wait!" Draco took the stairs two at a time, rushing to catch up. But Narcissa was clicking determinedly through the dancing crowd on the first floor. "Mother! Gods!" She burst through the cracked doors into the open evening, slowed significantly when her perilously high heels hit the soft sand.

He caught up and took hold of her arm. "What's wrong with you? What's upset you?"

She shook her head, but he didn't miss her glance back toward the clubhouse and suddenly knew - at least partially. "Vic. Fuck. What did he say to you?"

"Nothing."

But Draco was well aware of the change in her once Vic handed her back to him earlier. _I should have known he would... _"Something about me?" He asked. "About you and I -"

"He tread where he hadn't any bloody business!" She snapped. Her hair had loosened during their lesson and she flicked a shank of it impatiently from her lips.

"I don't doubt that." Draco attempted again to halt her. "Mother, please talk to me."

But they were already near the bridge and Narcissa rubbed her arms against the cold before descending the embankment to retrieve her wand. Draco helped her back up, checked behind them, and followed her through the wards. "Are you surprised?" He asked. "After all, they don't know you're my -"

"We should have told them." She muttered, still stalking along.

"Told them what? That you're my mother? Or that we're magical people and I'm only here because I've been forced into contact with their kind after joining a dark organisation bent on annihilating them?" He was breathless from trying to keep up with her.

She spun on him, hands on hips. "Don't be ridiculous. If he knew I was your mother, there certainly wouldn't have been a lecture on behaving myself. As if I was some... errant loose-moraled muggle..._slag_!"

"And what if we had told them?" He asked. "How odd would that seem, mum?" He hesitated, chewed uncertainly on his lip. Wasn't sure he should ask... His voice dropped secretively. "The way we dance together... what if we'd told them?"

She blinked rapidly. Her lashes were long and dropped shadows on her cheeks under the charmed lamp light. "What do you mean, the way we dance together?"

He felt his reason leave his body, felt bolstered by the night's blanket encircling them. He stepped closer to her, well within her dance space. "I think you know what I mean."

"Draco -"

"Narcissa." She was too beautiful not to touch. And a part of him feared that if he didn't grasp her, she would flit away again, fey and fleeting. He took hold of her jaw, gently, felt her breath hitch. "They think we're lovers because we dance like lovers."

She was trembling, and doubtful just from the chill. "Well...I saw you dancing with that muggle girl that night like -"

"And what did you think?" Draco asked. His thumb stroked her cheek and she blushed. He bent his head, longing.

"I think I'm rather chilled." Her fingers took hold of his own, urged them from her face. "I want to go home." But she didn't let go his fingers. In fact, she held his hand in her own, turned and tugged him.

He fell into step alongside her. Although their pace had slowed considerably his heart was beating a fever. When they passed Carolyn's abode, they saw lights and heard laughter inside. Narcissa slowed perhaps a step, and Draco followed her gaze to the lively cottage. "Want to say hello?" He asked reluctantly.

Narcissa's eyes flicked back to him but he couldn't read what was in them. "No." She tugged again. "I think I want to dance."

He laughed softly. "Haven't we danced enough tonight?"

Their bungalow soon came into view. His mother waved her wand and lights in the cabin glowed softly. "Not the way I want." Once inside, she warded the door behind them. With far more certainty in her steps than he'd felt in days, she pulled him along up his stairs.

For some reason, his palms had gone sweaty. He felt the cool fluid spread across his back and lip as well. His room was dim, and another wand wave opened up the sizable windows. The breeze set his moist skin to gooseflesh. He was nervous as hell.

His mother seemed less nervous. But still some odd energy emanated from her. She fiddled with the muggle stereo, lay her wand beside it on the windowsill. The airwave she found was a touch staticy, but sure enough a muggle sang true over airy chords.

_I never meant to cause you any sorrow_

_I never meant to cause you any pain_

_I only wanted one time to see you laughing_

_I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain_

Her head rolled on her shoulders as if she was coming to peace with something. Then, as if that peace was achieved, she removed her hair clip and laid it on the sill as well. Locks curled by heat and humidity and sweat tumbled down her back and Draco moved behind her, gently swayed, took her hands in his at her sides.

"Is this how you want to dance?" He asked in her ear. She didn't answer, but turned; folded his arm low around her waist, tucked her head underneath his chin. Silently said 'yes.'

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_I only want to see you bathing in the purple rain_

Her skin was cool to the touch, but touch he did. More than he'd imagined. And she didn't seem keen to stop him. He memorised the planes and knots of her lovely back, dipped her easily, and stroked the precious pale across her chest - up her neck his hand traveled. He curled his fingers around her nape and when she stood against him once more, his mouth lingered very close to her own.

He felt her breath as shallow and hot as his and he remembered his afternoon's ennui: _I can't have her. _But now she was so pliable against him, and suddenly her hands were pushing his jacket from his shoulders. He was powerless to resist her and wouldn't have tried anyway. _But now..._

_Just perhaps..._ He thought. "Can I have you?" There was barely voice to the question. But as if the feel of its breath on her ear was enough for her to understand, she swallowed heavily. He felt the gulp pulse delicately beneath his lips.

"Yes." And then her body shuddered as though the permission itself was a pleasure.

_I never wanted to be your weekend lover_

_I only wanted to be some kind of friend_

_Baby, I could never steal you from another, oh no_

_Such a shame our friendship had to end_

He swung her down and back over his arm, brought a bent leg up his hip. Cupping her knee, he watched the surrender on her face match his own. This time, he didn't bring her back up. In fact, seeing her hair stark against the white of his duvet was causing his muscles to tense of their own accord - causing his hands to grip too tightly. He stood at the edge of his bed, holding his mother's creamy leg against his thigh, watching her eyes for a warning.

But no warning came. Even as he slid his hand down, down to stroke her ankle, the intricate bones beneath leather strap. Her eyes fluttered closed and he saw her little white teeth capture her pouty bottom lip. He envied her teeth and before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were working free the little clasp on her shoe's strap.

He'd removed the heel when she seemed to awaken to some reality. It dangled from his fingers still wrapped round her foot like an afterthought. Time froze and she met his eyes behind stark clarity. "Draco," she said. The shoe fell.

He clenched his own eyes closed. Tilted his head back and gripped her ankle tighter. Terror that she would end it now - now that they were so close to something so distant. "Narcissa," he whispered back.

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_I only want to see you underneath the purple rain_

But hardly rejection. He was jolted back to motion by the feel of her fingers scrambling at his trouser plaquet. "Hell!" For a brief second, their hands tangled together - Draco uncertain whether he could tolerate this touch so soon.

"Please," she whimpered.

His face crumbled and he released her hand to its siren's will at the same time he released her foot and bent over her body. She gasped when his knees' resting between her thighs shifted the mattress, forced her closer to him. He could taste her breath on his face and her fingers stroked his bare cock in earnest.

He groaned into her neck. _Hopeless... _He pushed back just enough to try to maintain sense, to push her leg just a bit further out of the way. She was as agile horizontally as she was vertically and he bit her bare foot - hard - on its arch. "Ah!" She yelped.

But he grinned, feverish and like a fool. She wrapped the leg over his back and pulled him flush again and he was doomed when her lips met his at last.

_Honey, I know, I know times are wasted_

_It's time we all reach out for something new and that means you too_

_You say you want a leader but you can't seem to make up your mind_

_I think you better close it, well, let me guide you to the purple rain_

They abandoned themselves to the kiss; hands balleting over trousers and under skirt; knickers catching on a sharp heel and that reminded him -

"Ung!" She bit his bottom lip none too gently when he shifted again away from her, brought her other leg up to remove it's shoe, but -

"Leave it," she hissed in his mouth. "Want you."

"Fuck," he muttered. And perhaps she took that as an order, because before he could fathom a consequence he was slipping inside her, past a delicious resistance that gripped him like madness. "Ohohoh," he babbled, completely stupid with the heat, the incredible sticky wet of her.

She answered with not words but those uncontrollable exclamations, primeval guttural communications that worked into shouts. She didn't seem to care that the windows opened wide, didn't seem to care that the night heard her, that she silenced the nightbirds with her calling.

_Purple rain, purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_Purple rain, purple rain_

_I only want to see you underneath the purple rain_

There was no rhythm to be learned - at least, not now. This was destined to be a garish, quick coupling borne of desperation and birthing further desperation. But it was no excuse not to file every sensation, memorise every curve, every gasp and gurgle, every lunge, plunge and hip roll.

The coiling fire in his bollocks stoked the ember in her and it seemed they were on one page, both close to the climax of a shared novel. His knees took the brunt and he hardly noticed how they'd maneuvered across the bed. He held her neck and her hip in death grips, as though she were sanity.

Her nails gouged his back and the coarse edge of her high heel wreaked havoc on his buttock with every thrust until -

"DracoDraco!" She gasped. Her fingers left his back to clutch his face, bring his eyes to hers and he saw her feral unfurl. "Oh, gods!" Her sounds were demons' prayers.

Looked almost painful - the way her neck arched. He couldn't control the trembling of her body, the clenching of surprising strong muscles milking him any more than he could control his spill - his essence crashing into hers and "NoNoFuckYesNarcissaHell," he growled against violet silk-clad breast.

Sweat. Spit. The silty slick their bodies slurred together. These were his awarenesses. And his heartbeat. It was loud in his ears, deafening his thoughts. Her fingers were gentling his hair. He was still inside her, softening. It was raining, pelting severely the tin roof above them, a cacophonous lullabye.

Their clothes were stuck to their bodies. He kissed her collar, past skewed frock and tasted salt. Her skin was cooling fast. Finally he met her eyes. They were hooded, tired, but still open. "Draco." Something of a small smile...

He answered with his own smile, felt one eye lazing a bit more than the other. Could only imagine what he bloody looked like. "Narcissa."

And simple as that, their fates were sealed. They took turns visiting the loo, unspoken agreement seeming to bring them back to Draco's bed. He watched his mother kick her shoes to the side with a blush visible even in the dim. The radio on his bedside table played them through tendernesses and soon, they were between crisp sheets, cool and naked, limbs tangling and touching.

_These arms of mine _

_They are lonely, lonely and feeling blue _

_These arms of mine _

_They are yearning, yearning from wanting you _

She was stroking down his ribs, following the path created by muscle and bone to the sleek 'v' of his abdomen. He lurched. "Shite! That tickles, witch!" Under the sheet, her hand shifted.

She chuckled. "I didn't realise you were so sensitive." The mirth in her eyes translated to a deep sensuality. She turned on her stomach, half draped over him. "How do you feel?" There was concern, but tempered by curiosity. Fortunately, he found no regret.

"I feel bloody amazing." He tucked hair behind her ear. "How do _you_ feel?"

Coyly - for all the world like a teenaged girl again - she tucked her head and peeked at him through long fringe. "I feel wonderful." She shifted and her hip brushed a burgeoning erection. "I could feel better."

His brows danced. "Merlin. Could you? Already?"

Her arms stretched up and around his neck slowly. "You'll find that I've years to make up for, darling. And the drive of a witch in her prime."

Draco returned her embrace, cupped her firm arse cheeks. "Lucky me," he murmured against her lips.

_And if you would let them hold you _

_Oh, how grateful I will be _

He tumbled her, keen to explore her thoroughly, sheets binding them together. They spent some time simply worshiping each other's mouths, kissing, licking, biting lips, testing the textures of tongues.

_These arms of mine _

_They are burning, burning from wanting you _

He felt glorious against her; vital, strong, hot and yearning. There were things she knew she could never say - how he'd burned inside her, how she'd never known physiognomy the likes of his, how she'd never _come_ from _that_ before...

But for now words were unnecessary anyway. Her son was kissing his way down her body and when his teeth scraped her nipples she arched off the bed at the charge. "Oh!"

"Fucking gorgeous," he said gruffly. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't gentle. He squeezed and tugged at her flesh, bit and sucked hard enough to raise bruises.

_These arms of mine _

_They are wanting, wanting to hold you _

When his head settled between her thighs, she tensed, momentarily fraught with the vulnerable anxiety that plagues all women during such activity. However, Draco showed no hesitation, diving into her cunt as though the pleasure was his own. Probably it was, as he seemed to thrive on her exultations and the way she gouged at his hair.

"Ah my darling, my love..." She thrashed and muttered incomprehensible to herself, but it was a language lovers spoke fluently.

_And if you would let them hold you _

_Oh, how grateful I will be _

He opened her up, insistently exploring, prodding and pleasing. She curled into the sensation of his tongue nudging her clit and his long fingers thrumming her slit, seeking out the patch inside her that made her toes curl up that way. And when he found it she rode his face unashamedly, grunting encouragement as she came apart.

_Come on, come on baby _

When the sensation was too much, she fell back to the bed, urged his mouth back. His face was a mess of her juices and he licked at his lips lewdly. It was a beautiful image... "Good?"

_Ridiculous question. _She smiled. "Quite." Like a mother cat cleans her kit, she lapped his face as he slid inside her once more. Her breath caught. _So big._

"Oh, you feel good, mum." He had no compunctions with the title and oddly it felt as natural as any other time. She accepted it. He was feeling the difference between her pre and post-orgasm, knew the variations well.

_Just be my little woman, just be my lover, oh _

_I need me somebody, somebody to treat me right, oh _

Just a little numb, she could take something harder. In fact, suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to know him rampant. "Darling?"

"Mm?" He was nuzzling her neck, leisurely thrusting. She could feel the control in his muscles, longed to break it.

"Fuck me hard."

"Oh, hell." But he would never refuse her. He folded an arm over her head, buffering her from the headboard and clutched the thick pine with the other as he purposely pumped within her pussy. "Shite," he gritted out.

She mewled, squealed and gasped for him, sang him little songs of lust and slicked the sweat away from his eyes. She couldn't come again - too overcharged already, but she could certainly enjoy seeing the abandon contort his own lovely features, twist him into a gargoyle of debauchery.

_I need your woman's loving arms to hold me tight _

_And I...I...I need...I need your...I need your tender lips_

And yes, there was the joy in soothing him. In feeling the power drain from her young lover's frame when he settled against her again, moaning helpless in her neck and nuzzling. "There, there," she cooed. "So bloody good, Draco."

He raised his heavy head, gave her an exhausted grin. "I'm done for," he huffed.

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "But there are so many things we haven't tried yet." Her hand flapped about on the table before managing to silence the stereo.

A long groan and he rolled them to a dry spot. "Gods above. You're gonna kill me, witch..." He accepted her sweet good-night kiss, smiled as she arranged his badly skewed duvet over them and chuckled when she settled bird-like into the nest of his arm and side. "Comfy?"

"Mph." She draped an arm across his chest. He stroked it until her breath deepened and evened. Seeing her face pretty in sleep, he was able to close his own eyes at last. In the peace outside the windows, the nightbirds called.

**AN: **_Purple Rain _for my purposes is sang by Prince and _These Arms of Mine _is from Otis Redding. I told you it was a _Dirty Dancing _fic. Anybody not believe me? Next chapter sees dad come home which is always fun and maybe a nice father/son luncheon. Squee! This chap goes out to Marta - thank you, darling. And thanks to all who have read and reviewed so far. You're my fanfic family!


	10. How to Stop Apologising

Chapter 10: How to Stop Apologising

They spent the weekend as new lovers are prone to do: embedded in bedding. When they weren't outright fucking, or slowly and intensely making love, they were splashing together in the clawfoot bath, or ravenously and quickly taking some sustenance or other half-clothed in the kitchen downstairs. But they continuously laughed. Flirted. Danced or teased.

The witch felt renewed and the wizard felt...completed. As if something that had been missing for a time had come to roost. In the language of the peacock his own father adored, Draco had taken his hen.

A blissful arrangement, really... Until Monday morning.

It was Draco who first heard the noise downstairs. Unmistakable sounds of heavy steps on hardwoods. He jolted upright in his bed. "Bollocks," he muttered.

"Ow!" His mother had no choice but to jolt upright with him as his fingers were tangled quite thoroughly in her hair. "What?" She asked groggily, working her locks free of his digits.

Draco, panicked and desperate to help dislodge his hand from its keratin prison, made the situation worse. "Father's home."

Her eyes widened and her free hand awkwardly brought the duvet up over her bare chest. "He can't be!" She hissed.

"Narcissa!" The call echoed from downstairs. "Draco!" More footsteps. "I've exciting news!"

"Oh, sweet goddess," Cissa squeaked.

"Shhh!" Draco tore his fingers from a few lingering tangles, ignoring her wince. "Get dressed," he whispered. More calls from below brought him leaping from the bed. "I'll distract him somehow." He dressed swiftly, grimacing as he settled an unsatisfied morning erection in last night's wrinkled trousers. He was buttoning his shirt when he opened his door. "I'm locking this, mum."

Narcissa was frozen on their bed, nodding mutely. Her fingers curled against her lip, nervous and worrying. _What are we going to do now?_

"Father!" Draco closed his door just in time to see his father's face round the banister. "Sorry. I was...having a lie in."

"Obviously." But Lucius was nearly smiling even as he took in his son's disheveled appearance, and that was a good sign. "Where's your mother?"

Draco wondered at his face at times; what it was doing, how earnest it appeared, if it was as transparent in lying as he felt. He wondered particularly strongly now as he stared directly into his father's disconcerting blue eyes. "I don't know." He shrugged as he brushed past Lucius. "She wakes up so bloody early. Maybe with Carolyn?"

"Huh. Possibly."

"You said you had news?" Draco set about preparing the kettle. Lucius followed him into the kitchen. "Shall we have tea?"

The father blinked, unaccustomed to such welcome from his son. "Fine. Fine. That sounds...fine."

Draco could hear the confusion in the man's tone and almost smirked. It was an empowering feeling, seeing his patriarch so thrown. "Why don't you set up a tray for us and take it to the patio? I'll bring the kettle. Unless you'd rather take it in here?"

"No, no." Lucius' doublespeak was testament to his deepening wonder at Draco's behavior. "We'll do it provincial, eh?"

Draco laughed. "Right." He watched his father prepare a tea tray, putting together dainty cups and saucers and arranging biscuits clumsily on a lace doily. Again, he suppressed his amusement.

"Need help with the kettle, son?"

"No, father. I'll be along in a moment."

Lucius carried the tray from the kitchen and Draco let out the stale breath he'd held in for the last ten minutes. He took the kettle from the stove and paused to listen upstairs. He heard no stirring, but had no doubt his mother was up and about, probably listening to every word that passed between her husband and son. Probably slightly losing her mind.

Draco took the kettle to the patio. "So." He poured his father's tea and sat, noticed a place set for his mother. "What's your excitement?"

"I thought I'd wait a moment. See if your mother joins us," Lucius replied. He gestured to Draco with his newspaper. "How was your weekend?"

_Completely innocent eyes. Nod boringly. _"It was fine. Relaxing."

"Good, good." Lucius squinted at him. "You look piqued. Take in any good films?"

"I did." _Keep nodding. Eat a biscuit. Sip. Swallow. Good job. _"In fact I was up rather late last evening watching a film. Why I er...slept so late."

Lucius chuckled. "Well, they're rather fun, I suppose. I watched one, too."

"Did you?" The surprise was not feigned.

"I did." Lucius thought for a moment, remembering. "_Citizen Kane_, it was. Watched it at the muggle hotel Saturday."

"What was it about?" Again, genuine interest.

"Ultimately? A sled."

"Ah." Disappointment.

Lucius was left looking thoughtfully into his tea. He finally cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you managed to keep your mother company some?"

Draco choked on his sip of tea. _Blast! _"Hot, that," he muttered, wiping at his shirtfront. "Mother. Yes. We...were... Yes, I think I was good company. Or, I hope..." He gestured airily with a biscuit, aware he was approaching nervous rambling but unable to prevent it. "Either way, yes. I was here. Some. With...my mother." The biscuit he was waving broke and half of it whizzed by Lucius' head, nearly skimming his ear. "Good gods," Draco exclaimed. "Dangerous, these biccies."

"Darling!" The exclamation came from the Malfoy witch and both blonde heads turned to clock her approach. "You're home early!" She rubbed Lucius' shoulder, bent to kiss his cheek. Draco looked away.

"Well, I said Monday or Tuesday," Lucius reminded. "And we managed to wrap up our business early. In fact, we spent yesterday..." He spread his hands as if about to reveal a great secret. "...fishing."

"Fishing?" The excitement in Narcissa's tone seemed completely genuine to Draco. But he could still clearly see the anxiety in her eyes. She was freshly bathed, he noticed, and dressed in a lengthy skirt with a modestly sleeved blouse. "Well, that sounds lovely." She sat to tea, skirt rustling.

"It's horrid, actually." Lucius scowled. "Out on the sea with all that sun and wobbling about, sick as hell... Bait and hooks and...well, you know. _Fish. _They smell just awful. Terrible mess everywhere with guts and such. Slipping around in the bloody muck. Ghastly."

"Oh, dear." Cissa frowned, patted Lucius' hand. "But otherwise you had a nice time, I hope?"

"Quite. Quite."

"Father says he has some exciting news," Draco announced. He met her eyes across the table.

"Does he?" She was tense. Looked to her husband. "Well, let's hear it."

"You shall," Lucius promised. "But I should like to hear of your weekend, first." His turn to pat her hand. "Draco seems to have kept himself quite busy and I worry you were lonely."

"Not at all!" Her voice was about two octaves too high. She noticeably flustered, attempted to control the nervous tic. "I was highly entertained."

"Hmph. Carolyn?" Lucius asked drolly. "That witch..."

"Oh, she's a fine friend." Narcissa paled. Draco's foot nudged hers beneath the table and she jumped in surprise. "Gah!" The table shook from her knee's impact. "Damned ants," she muttered. "Draco!"

"What?" He looked genuinely terrified at her glare.

"I've told you not to toss your biscuits about for the birds!" She pointed accusingly to the biscuit half resting beyond Lucius' head. "Because _t__hat_ is how you get ants."

Draco was taken aback by the reprimand. He could tell she was completely off kilter and had no idea how to correct their lilt. "I'm sorry?"

Lucius looked between the two of them as if he knew something was off. "I imagine we can handle a few ants, love." He gentled his wife. She blinked at him.

"Of course. Of course, we can." She smiled. _Completely innocent. Nod. Sip your tea. Excellent._ "Now." She dabbed her lips with her serviette. "What is your exciting news, husband?"

"Well." He sat back, clearly preparing something elaborate. "I told you I was going to take a look at some muggle properties, correct?"

Narcissa and Draco exchanged gazes. Truthfully, they'd forgotten anything but the thread count of Draco's sheets that weekend. But... "Yes," Draco said. "I recall something to that effect."

"I've made a few investments."

"Investments?" Narcissa asked. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"I mean the muggle exchange rate is an absolute gold mine for wizards who are willing to take the time to learn it." He grinned. "The ratio of galleon to pound is...quite staggering. And the Euro, as well! And let's not even mention the American dollar." He tapped the table. "So I'm playing the market."

"The market?" Narcissa was looking increasingly displeased. Draco didn't care for the way her forehead was creasing. He'd worked damned hard all weekend to de-crease that forehead and here his father was wrinkling things up again. _Of course,_ he thought. _Bugger._

"Well, it's just an experiment," Lucius said. He waved off her concern as if it was nothing. "I plan to sell it off quickly. Just see what sort of gains there are."

"How much investing are we looking at?" Narcissa asked. Her teacup was paused before her mouth - had been for perhaps a minute now.

"Not enough that it should in any way inconvenience us, I assure you." He held up a calming hand, recognising his wife's growing agitation. "Also..." Here, he hesitated. Drew a deep breath. "I've purchased a few muggle properties. On another popular resort similar to the one below. The rental fees will triple my investment in eight months' time, so -"

"So you thought to spend heinous amounts of our money on unstable muggle investments without so much as a by your leave from your wife?" She trembled. Draco longed to take her hand, embrace her, _anything_.

"Now, Narcissa."

"No!" She stood. Her chair nearly overturned. "No more 'now, Narcissa.'" She insisted. Her cheeks were a high pink Draco had only seen previously in orgasm. She had things on her mind, and was flush enough to speak them. "I came here with you thinking you meant to save this family, Lucius. To save our reputations and finally know your son. Even to..." She shook her head, dismissing her last point entirely. "You've done nothing but alienate us since we arrived and isolate yourself with this muggle..._finance bollocks!_ And now you've possibly squandered a mass of _our_ fortune on the goddess only knows what doomed venture and don't you _dare _deny it's _our_ fortune, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Never forget how much Black Family gold poured into the Malfoy coffers and continues to accrue interest for you."

He interrupted her tirade. "Narcissa, I would never tread upon the wealth you brought with your dowry or your inheritance, I _assure _you."

"Good!" She shouted. "Good. Because someday... Someday I may need it back."

"Cissa!" He cried, scandalised. But she was already rushing away from the table, down the path, disappearing behind a clutch of firs.

Draco sat in stunned silence, wondering at what had just transpired. He'd never seen his mother speak so boldly to his father, never realised exactly how dismissively Lucius treated her. He'd also never realised he was backed by ample Black money. He looked at his father who rested his forehead on a tired hand. "Father?"

"Can't seem to get anything right, can I?" He asked. "Even when that's exactly what I'm trying to do." He looked at Draco, exhausted eyes dark and baggy. "How do I stop apologising?"

And in that moment Draco realised another truth: that his father wasn't a villain, per se - just an idiot. Another wave of power washed over him, along with something rather surprising: pity. He tried a smile, but it was too pained to comfort. "Don't ever stop apologising, father. Not if you need to. Just...stop making reasons to apologise."

Lucius' face worked for a moment and Draco watched it. "That simple, eh?" He asked with amusement. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Father." Draco leaned on the table, steepled his fingers. "Just bloody talk to her. Talk to _us_! It would make her so happy."

Lucius nodded, considering his son's advice. "I suppose I should listen to you," he conceded. "You seem to be the expert in what makes my wife happy lately."

"Awoah!" Draco's elbow slipped off the table as he pushed himself upright, upsetting the tea tray again. His palms burst into a sweat. He fixed the cups and saucers and biscuit plate clumsily. "Well. Just...you know...try it." He stood. "I'm going to go read, I think." His relief at this debacle ending was so strong it nearly exhausted him.

"Where did she go?" Lucius asked.

Draco paused. He looked to the path. "That way? Probably to Carolyn's." She may have gone further, Draco knew. Possibly even through the wards. But he didn't feel a need to tell his father that. Besides, his mother might not wish to be found. And in any case, Draco felt safer letting her come to him.

Lucius just nodded. "Of course," he sighed. "Well. I suppose I'll talk to her when she returns, then."

"Probably best." Draco patted his father's back as he passed. When he paused at the door and looked back, Lucius was still sitting to the table.

* * *

"Lucius has been a complete arse."

"What's new?" Carolyn drawled. She stood aside to let her friend in the door. "And a good day to you."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa turned, frowning. "I'm afraid I just made quite a scene and scampered from the tea table."

"Oh my!" Carolyn chuckled, producing a silver cigarette case from the pocket of her maroon dressing gown. "Come. Onto the patio and tell me simply _everything_."

Carolyn's deck chairs were plush, magically kept. Her table was beneath a cooling awning and was already set with fruit and an icy pitcher of something no doubt alcoholic. "And do excuse my state of undress," she said. "I'm afraid I just shooed away an overnight guest."

Narcissa smirked. Poured herself a glass of sangria. "And his name?"

"Jessica."

It was Narcissa's turn to "Oh my!"

"No," Carolyn said simply. "Mine." She put two cigarettes in her mouth and wand-lit the tips of both. Handed one to Narcissa. "So. Tell me the gorey details."

Narcissa smoked and outlined the events over tea. Carolyn listened intently, not interrupting or commenting out of turn. "And...now I'm here."

Carolyn shook her head. "Poor Lucius."

"Poor Lucius?!" Cissa scoffed. "Hardly!"

"Oh, poor both of you," Carolyn amended. "Cissa, dear. I do believe he's trying. But I also believe your husband has absolutely no sense of forethought."

"No sense at all," Narcissa grumbled.

Carolyn chuckled, swept her slightly tousled hair away from her face. "I think he means well for the family, lovie. In his own way, which is...financial." She leveled a finger at Narcissa. "I think Lucius has always equated providing for you and Draco with love. Don't you?"

"But he could have simply loved us!" Cissa insisted. "It didn't always have to be about... baubles or frocks or expensive vacations..."

"And you could have simply told him that," Carolyn pointed out.

"_When_?"

"Hm." Carolyn slouched, seeing the dilemma. They were quiet for a moment. "Well, I suppose you've told him now, haven't you? Quite eloquently." She gave up trying to hide her grin and soon Cissa was laughing, too. "You know? I'm proud of you." Carolyn poked gamely at her friend's arm.

"Whatever for?" Narcissa straightened, felt the alcohol skating through her system. _Should probably eat some of that fruit._

"For standing up for yourself!" Carolyn crowed. "For taking charge and letting him have it! I think it's been a long time coming."

"Perhaps you're right." Narcissa sipped her sangria. Bit into a juicy peach wedge. "I think I shall do it more often."

"What's gotten into you?" Carolyn asked. She smiled widely at Narcissa, then the smile began to fade. As if she was solving a sudden and great mystery. "Yes...what _has _gotten into you, Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Hm?" But her highball glass did little to hide Cissa's spreading blush.

"No, not 'what,'" Carolyn continued wisely. "But _who,_ I think. _Who_ has gotten into our ever proper trophy wife?" Cissa shifted uncomfortably but Carolyn had a bulldog's tenacity when it came to other peoples' sex lives. "You may as well tell me because I will find out." She reached across Narcissa's lap, tapped her cigarette. "And if I find out my way, the rest of this mountain will find out with me."

"Oh, Carolyn please..."

"It had better not be Jessica!" Carolyn snapped. "If I find out she's -"

"I really can't say," Narcissa interrupted quietly, looking into her drink.

Carolyn sobered. "But you don't deny there is someone?" Cissa shook her head. "I see." The dark witch nodded slowly, contemplating. "Must be serious."

"Quite."

"Dangerous?" There was a coy spark in Carolyn's eye.

"Very," Narcissa took a deep breath. "I... I haven't exactly figured it out myself, yet."

"Complicated."

"Indeed."

"Good, though?" She gestured rudely. "I mean, you know..."

"Yes, I know. Thank you for the demonstration," Narcissa griped. Then blushed again. "But yes. Really. Very. Very good. Too good, perhaps." She rubbed at her forehead. _If only I could tell her... Not a thing I could tell anyone, though._

"Well." Carolyn pursed her lips. Raised a brow. Thought a moment. Raised her glass. "Here's to complicated." Helpless to do more or less, Narcissa toasted.

**AN: **Thanks out to all who are following and reviewing so faithfully; rbear, Lily, allilask, LuPone, the beautiful disaster (always) and lovely Story Writer. You guys keep me enjoying this fic and making me want you to enjoy it, too. Know that I take your suggestions, criticisms and witticisms to heart. Love to you all, and to the freak of my soul who is in the cup of my heart-hands.


	11. Four Days

Chapter 11: Four Days

Four days. It had been four days. Four days since he'd slicked snakelike between the sweat of her thighs, pumped inside her like a shard of heaven, nipped and sucked her bottom lip to swelling...

Four days. Four days of family dinners together; a smiling Lucius joyously victorious in his late muggle finance ventures, a moping, tense Draco staring at her across the table. And what was she to do? Force another smile. Serve another chicken breast.

It was surreal.

Twice they took in muggle films together. Together. The three of them. Lucius took Narcissa's arm as they descended the mountain together, clapped his son upon the shoulder. Draco and Narcissa ducked or turned their heads, urged Lucius to hurry past the clubhouse where they usually danced together.

They could hear the music and voices inside and she knew Draco's feet itched to dance as much as hers did. She wondered if his body ached, as well - for hers moving against it. Four days and she longed for him dreadfully. She could read the tension in his young face and knew her own was similar.

But Lucius certainly didn't seem to notice. He introduced his wife and son to his incredibly boring muggle friends and thoroughly enjoyed each film they attended. But as far as Narcissa was concerned, _Shall We Dance_ was simply torture and _40 Carats _was even worse. She avoided her son's eyes after both.

Even Lucius seemed to experience a little awkwardness that evening. On the way back to their bungalow, he commented. "I suppose muggle women are rather more...forward in their approach to romance."

Surprisingly, it was Draco who involved himself in the conversation. "I didn't find it very romantic, really," he said. "More of a superficial affair, it seemed."

"You don't think the younger fellow was in love with the lady?"

"No." Draco shook his head. His eyes were deeply serious. "There's a difference."

"Oh?" Lucius seemed amused by the subject. Narcissa's gaze flitted between the two men, and she couldn't seem to exorcise the tension building in her shoulders. "And how would you know, son? Could it be you've felt the sting of first love?"

Draco's nostrils flared. He scoffed. "Hardly. Rather more than a sting, I'd say."

Lucius' eyebrows shot high upon his forehead. "I see." He looked to his wife. "Do you know anything of this development in our son, darling?"

Her throat was tight. Draco's eyes met hers intensely. "I - no." She muttered quickly. Tried to force a smile. "Is there some lady, Draco? Should we prepare the banns?"

"I wish," he muttered in reply. Narcissa trembled when he pushed past her at the bungalow. "Excuse me, mother. Father. I think I'll have a bit of reading before bed."

Lucius watched him go. "Draco?" When the young wizard turned, Lucius hesitated awkwardly. "I...er... I wonder if you would like to join me for brunch tomorrow with the liaison and a few of my acquaintances?"

Narcissa wondered if her surprise was naked on her face. She watched Draco's thoughts unfold. He didn't look at her. "That sounds fine, father." She hid her relief.

But Lucius' was rather transparent. "Oh! Oh. Well. Excellent, then! Very well, son." If he'd nodded any harder, he would have developed whiplash. "I'll see you in the morning?" Draco nodded quietly. "Good night."

"Good night, father."

Lucius held the door open for his slightly stymied wife. "And you? Leaving me alone tonight?"

She vacillated. The last three evenings she'd shut herself away with her own book, content to let Lucius absorb his muggle papers and Draco...stew away upstairs. She'd tried mightily to keep herself distracted from memories of her son's mouth, hands and cock. Not that she'd succeeded - but she'd tried mightily.

Tonight, Draco paused on the stairs. She felt his eyes on her as surely as she saw Lucius' on her. "Of course not, husband. If you desire my company?"

"I've a bottle of muggle wine I'm told is an excellent vintage." He gestured to the patio. "Perhaps we could judge for ourselves."

"Sounds lovely." The stairs creaked behind her as Draco ascended them. Each squeak seemed to pierce her belly. "I'll be right out."

In her room, she leaned on her wardrobe, arms shaking. _Ridiculous_, her mind spat. _He's your bloody son! _Frustration tightened her eyes, increased the creases there that had disappeared over the weekend. She tore off the conservative cotton blouse and reached for her dressing gown. _And now what the devil do you talk to your husband about?_

Her slippers patted softly the cobblestones. Lucius had arranged a small table in between two plush lounges. He gave her a courtly bow, clinking two wine glasses in invitation. "I see you've opted for informal attire, madame."

She smiled genuinely. How she'd missed this charming man... She gave him a twirl. "I hope our terribly aristocratic guests won't mind."

"They've cancelled." Lucius poured her a glass of glimmering gold. "Something about washing their hair."

"Sounds like an evasion." She sipped the wine, got comfortable on the lounge.

"Mm." Lucius followed suit. "Or perhaps they have very dirty hair." He sat. Crossed his long legs. His lips smacked. "Bit sweet this is."

"I like it."

"You always liked sweet wines."

"They're easy." She sighed. _Rather nice, this. _Lucius' profile in the starlight was handsome as ever. _So like Draco._ The unintentional comparison made her cringe. Silence settled between them. It was comfortable. She let it rest for a time, content to listen to the whip-poor-will in the distance. But as she poured her second glass of wine, she had to know: "Whatever will you do with Draco tomorrow?"

Lucius took a deep breath. Swirled his wine thoughtfully. "I've no damned idea."

"Ah." She twirled a tuft of curls that lay against her shoulder. Watched the lights of an airplane blink across the starry sky.

"I'm certain we'll find some...common ground."

She could hear the nervousness in his voice. Glanced at him. "Of course you will. He's your son."

"Hmph." Lucius' lips pursed. He gazed into his wine. "Do you suppose I will ever reach him again?"

She could feel the concern in her husband's voice, appreciated that he still _loved_ his son. She chose her words carefully. "I think...that when this is over, and you and Draco have your wands back and...the familiarity of wizardry again... Yes. I think you will reach each other easily. In the meantime, you can think of this time together as a sort of... strengthening time."

Lucius turned to fully gaze at her. "You're bloody brilliant, you know."

"Yes, I know." She smiled. It felt wonderful. The wine was headier than she'd expected.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Her smile fell suddenly and completely. She paled. "What?"

"You heard me." He poured more wine for himself. "I wouldn't begrudge you it. I would simply like to know. And know that..." He swallowed heavily. "That you're being treated well." His voice broke. Not a sob, but a crack in the facade.

Narcissa froze. Suddenly the wine on her tongue was bitter. She felt like she swallowed bile alongside it. "No, Lucius." She lied a whisper.

"I see." He settled back in his lounge. She wondered if he did see, worried that he could. But he seemed willing enough to believe her, or willing enough to delude himself. "I imagined Carolyn would have found you some adequate substitute by now."

She forced a rueful laugh. "I confess she tried to." Then she looked cautiously back to her husband, curious what his reaction would be.

His eyes were closed. Elegant fingers softly caressing his glass. "Of course, she did." He peeked at her, knew she would be biting her lip. "I'm glad that you have her. To...confide in. She was always a good friend to you."

Relief was a tingling wash. "I never had many friends."

"I know. Neither of us did." His eyes shut again. "You're a wonderful witch, Narcissa. And a damnably beautiful woman." His lip curled. "I'm so fucking sorry..."

Guilt pressed on her throat. She reached between them, curled her fingers loosely over his. "Darling..." She trailed off. "You can't help -"

"There are things I _can_ help, Cissa." His fingers tightened on hers. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before investing in the muggle properties. I'm sorry for making you feel inconsequential. I assure you that's not the case."

"Oh, Lucius." Her eyes were wet. She blinked and felt tears escape. "Thank you."

"Mmp." His acknowledgment was gruff, but she knew how easily sentiment unsettled him. They allowed silence to fall again, and at the end of Cissa's second glass, she realised her husband was drifting into sleep, his glass tilting perilously over the arm of the lounge. She stood and set it on the table.

"Lucius."

"Hm?"

"Come. Time for bed."

He stirred. Sat up. "Right, as usual." She hauled him to his feet, chuckling. They abandoned the last sips of wine, leaning on each other as they made their way to Lucius' room. "Good night, Narcissa." Lucius stroked her cheek softly.

"Good night, Lucius." She whispered. She was surprised when his lips ghosted over hers, unable to control the closing of her eyes. But the kiss was no more than that - a ghost of something beautiful and long forgotten. She didn't feel him step away, but heard his door snick closed. She opened her eyes to wood.

An odd emptiness took her heart. She turned, troubled, meant to make for her own room, but felt a presence behind her. "Draco!" Half in shadow, his unreadable face was almost frightening. He didn't reply, but turned back to the stairs. "Draco," she hissed, followed him.

Quietly she lit his stairs, closed his door behind them and pressed her back to it. "What's wrong?" She asked him.

He stood at a window, bare back straight. "You still love him."

_Oh, goddess. What have I done? _Her forehead creased. "I will always love him, Draco. He's my husband. Your father. Love is so very...complicated. It comes in so many forms and -"

"What's so bloody complicated?" He demanded, whirling to face her.

"Draco," she murmured a warning, didn't want to wake her husband. "Shhh."

"You've a wand." He gestured roughly. "Cast a silencing charm."

She drew the instrument from the pocket of her dressing gown and did as he bade. "There's no need for us to fight," she said calmly.

In a second, he stood before her, raw and vulnerable. "I love you," he said. "It's as simple as that, isn't it? Or am I no more than the Italian wizard Carolyn arranged for you? Just a bit more convenient, I expect. And maybe just enough like my father to -"

Her hand connected sloppily with his face, not a slap so much as a desperate and angry gesture of silencing. Her voice couldn't be trusted. "Stop it," she growled. "Stop it!" He took hold of her arm, pulling. But she was stronger than she looked. Her nails scraped his lip as they wrestled. "Let me go!"

"_You_ stop it!" He demanded. Her wand clattered to the floor in their struggle. "Tell me I mean something to you!"

"You're my son, Draco!" She slapped at his chest, needing him away from her. He managed to press her arms to his door, one above her head.

"I was your lover for the weekend, too," he spoke directly in her ear, nuzzled her neck, groaned.

"Oh, gods," she hissed. Her body betrayed her, greedy for him.

"What do you want?" He bit at the tender skin of her neck. "A son? Or a lover?"

"Draco!" She turned her head - not away from, but into his mouth, sought a violent kiss. His lip bled where her nail had nicked it earlier and the blood tasted familiar on her tongue.

They moaned helplessly, arched into each other like fallen angels. Their struggle turned embrace. "I want you," Draco breathed. "Not as a mother. I can't even see you that way anymore." His fingers opened her dressing gown, lifted her. The satin slid her easily up his door.

"I want you, too," she confessed hotly in his mouth. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she raped his mouth with hers again. "Just like this. Oh!"

He wrapped her legs round his waist, pressed his hardness into her heat. "Fuck, Narcissa."

"Yes." It was an answer, a plea, a demand. Her fingers wormed between them, made his belly lurch as she yanked gracelessly at his trouser placket. A breath, a gasp, a shared surrender and he was lodged inside her. "Ah!"

Despite the silencing charm, Narcissa bit his shoulder, in essence gagged herself with his muscle and skin, turned her usual cries to barely controlled growls. "Shite!" Draco cursed. She felt like a slick, hot heaven wrapped around him, reminding him he could die just this way.

He fucked her fast and hard, couldn't have controlled the urgency even if she'd asked - not that she would. He could feel her pleasure in the way her fingers clutched, touched everything they could reach. The way she opened the skin of his back, bloodletting. His mother was two lovers: a gentle, sweet and calming one, or a beastly, rough, demanding one.

He loved them both, but tonight he welcomed the sharp-toothed succubus who made him yield so deliciously.

Soon, they became aware that the door was rattling in its hinges. Nearly mindless, Draco maneuvered her a few feet to the left, propped her in a windowsill. The cool air was welcome on their overheated skin, and Narcissa found better purchase on the window frame, curling an arm above her head to grip the wood. "Gods, Draco."

He pressed his face into her chest, licked a line through her sweat and between her breasts. "I've missed you so."

"Me, too! Oh, _fuck_!" And he knew she was close. When his mother's pretty proper lips fell to profanity, he knew she was on that edge of orgasm. He curled her closer to him, jerked sharply on her bum, pushed her just a bit closer.

"Let go," he urged. "Let go and come with me, witch." It wasn't any seduction that lowered his voice to the determined purr; he wasn't capable of such subtlety. She pushed him beyond even that unreasonable reason. It was pure lust, unrefined and irresistible.

He saw - through the muddled, blurry vision of his own release - the soon-to-be-satisfied smug smile spreading across the succubus' face... Strangely, he didn't feel like her victim in the least. Rather, when she clenched him in a bodily grip, drained him of his essence, he felt the victor.

And the night knew they were both victorious. Heard it in their cries. No creature would dare to argue. In fact, an unearthly silence lay in the wake of their coupling.

Heaving breath, they calmed. He slid the witch from the window easily, lubricated by the puddle they'd left behind. She kissed her way down his chest until he rested his chin atop her head. Their feet tangled in discarded dressing gown and trousers.

A breeze ruffled sweat-wet hair. "Feel better?" Narcissa asked. He nodded, nuzzled the part in her hair. She embraced him, accepted a more gentle kiss. "We can't do this again. Not with your father here."

"I know." He tilted his head, allowed her to inspect his injured lip. "I couldn't help it."

"No." She sighed, content the little scratch wasn't serious. "Nor could I." She bent to retrieve her dressing gown while Draco affixed his trousers.

"You can't stay, I suppose."

"Inadvisable." She stroked his face, saw her own longing reflected there. "I wish I could."

Draco bit his lip. Released it. "Will it be like this forever, then? Even back home?"

That brought her up short. Her fingers fluttered to a halt on his shoulder. _Hadn't thought that far ahead. _"I...I don't know."

He quirked a rueful smile. "Well. At least the manor's bigger."

"True." She held him again. "Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Please be tolerant tomorrow. Of your father. I think he's trying."

Draco chuckled. Couldn't escape the irony of their situation, but could at least find humor in the fact his mother was asking him to be nice to his father after he'd just fucked her in the window of the family vacation cabin. "Trying _what_?" He asked.

The irony was not lost on her, either. She swatted at his arm. "Trying to fix us, Draco. At least I think." She stepped away from him, smoothing her hair. "Just talk to him. Alright?"

"I will." Draco sat on his bed heavily, watched her linger at his door. She picked up her wand and canceled the suspicious silencing charm. "Mother."

"Yes?"

"I do love you."

The naked statement ached between them. "And I you, Draco." She shook her head, at a loss for words. "I simply don't know how..."

He nodded understanding. "Sleep well?"

She held the door knob with white knuckles, needing an anchor to prevent her going to him _just once more. _"You too, dragon."

The stairs creaked more quietly under her lighter steps. There was silence in her husband's room when she paused there, evidence he'd been undisturbed. Another palpable relief washed over her.

She washed up in the lavatory before skittering across the hall to her own room. Once inside, she opened her own windows, welcoming the jasmine breeze. Her sheets were cool and welcoming, and - with satisfaction heavy in her four-day starved belly - she slept quickly and deeply.

**AN: **Next chapter has - you guessed it - father/son bonding. Truths are starting to surface, and summer is drawing to a close - in our fic, and in life. The end is nigh, alas. Sigh. The milf begins her own vacation this week, so next update might be late, but will be worth it as the beach always inspires me in...unexpected ways. (Stop snickering, dragon.) _Shall We Dance _ is from RKO Radio Pictures 1937, starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. _40 Carats _is from Columbia Pictures 1973, starring Liv Ullman and Edward Albert. Both great films, so check them out.


	12. Playing Through

Chapter 12: Playing Through

Draco took a deep breath. He stood before his wardrobe mirror, took in his reflection with a disgusted scowl. _Khaki trousers. Is this what I've come to? _He hadn't danced in days; hadn't enjoyed the lingering company of his lover, her slow and boiling heat beneath him.

And now he was expected to spend an entire day with his father. _What the devil are we going to talk about? _He straightened the collar on his blue polo shirt, smoothed it over his flat stomach. _I look... _"Ridiculous," he breathed aloud.

Descending the stairs - like one ascending to the guillotine - he heard voices on the patio. His father. His mother. Carolyn Howe. _Bloody fucking hell. _He couldn't control an eye roll, stepping onto the cobbled stone.

"Oh my." Carolyn, of course. "Don't you look positively muggle scrumptious!" She chuckled openly.

Draco gave her a tight, blatantly fake smile. But he caught his mother's sparkling grin even before she attempted to hide it behind a graceful hand. He flushed brightly.

"You look perfect," his father announced. "Just like all the other young muggle men at the club. Very good, son."

"Thank you, father." He sat stiffly, avoided his mother's still twinkling gaze.

"Brings out your eyes, darling." Narcissa complimented him, knowing his discomfort. She looked away in her own discomfort, and Draco nodded his quiet thanks.

"Playing some golf today?" Carolyn goaded. Draco's lips tightened when her toes stroked his ankle beneath the table.

Lucius answered for him. "Perhaps. We're uncertain." He glanced up at the sky. "Hopefully we'll make a few holes if it clears up." He set his empty tea cup down in its saucer. "That being said, we should make our way down. Discreetly, of course. Draco?" He rose. Draco rose with him.

"What about your tea?" Narcissa asked, reaching for Draco's arm.

His nostrils flared at her innocent touch. "I'm fine, mum. I imagine there will be tea soon enough."

Her nervousness was thinly veiled. She tugged at his elbow - a subtle invitation. "Please. Have a good afternoon." There was tension in her voice. He heard the true plea beneath the placation. Draco leaned into her, felt her breath on his neck when he kissed her cheek. Speechless in her nearness. "Both of you," she breathed.

"We fully intend to." Lucius replied confidently. No sooner had Draco drawn away, Lucius' lips fell against her other cheek. "And we hope you ladies have a productive afternoon of..." He gestured, uncertain.

"Hard drinking, illicit potions making and lesbianage?" Carolyn offered helpfully.

Narcissa gaped at her friend. Draco scowled. Lucius, however, smirked. "Wonderful," he said, clapped Carolyn on a tanned shoulder. To Narcissa he added, "Use protection. Draco?" Over the surprised gasps of the witches, the wizards departed.

"Well." Carolyn tossed an olive pit sullenly to the cobblestones. "Lucius has certainly developed a sense of humor. Albeit at the cost of others. But I suppose beggars can't be choosers." She looked at Narcissa expectantly. Narcissa stared into the middle distance, chewing her lip. "Hello?" Carolyn waved a hand before the other witch's hypnotised gaze.

"Sorry." Cissa tried a smile. "Shall we have another martini?"

"Believe it or not...no." Carolyn's dark eyes narrowed. "What's plaguing you?"

"Nothing."

"Bollocks."

Narcissa sighed. Her face fell into her hands. "I can't," she murmured. "I can't do this. I can't say." She shook as though she was hiding from some omniscient thing.

Carolyn blinked, surprised to see her usually strong, pragmatic friend quaking so. "Oh, goddess. There really is something wrong. Dreadfully wrong." She shifted her chair, closed in on Narcissa. Hesitantly rubbed the pale, trembling shoulders. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Not this." Narcissa choked. She heaved a breath, attempted to gather her wits. "I'm so sorry. I just -"

"You can't be this worried about Draco and Lucius relating to one another today." Carolyn's mind worked over possibilities. The calculations showed on her face. "It's the other man, isn't it? The one you won't tell me about."

"Oh, Carolyn." Narcissa sobbed. _Too much at stake. Too much to risk telling anyone._

Carolyn was surprisingly understanding. Sometimes, it took guess work. "Has he ended things?" At Narcissa's shaken head, Carol re-calculated. "Oh gods," she hissed. "He isn't blackmailing you, is he? No worries if he is, Cissa. I know a wizard who can handle any situation like that quickly and with...well, rather frightening efficiency. But I promise you the problem will be -"

"I'm not being blackmailed, Carolyn." Narcissa sighed. She sat back and dabbed at her few tears with her serviette. "It's really... You simply can't imagine."

"You're right. I can't. But I also can't help if you can't confide in me." Cissa cast her a baleful look and Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. I've been careless in the past. But I _know_ the necessity of discretion. I _am _capable of keeping secrets, love."

Her heart hurt. Narcissa rubbed at her chest. How wonderful it would be to say it aloud, to speak the heinous truth, to have someone chastise her, advise her, simply be _mortified _at the horror... "You'll hate me," she whispered. "You'll be disgusted. I'll lose you, Carolyn, and you're all I have!"

Carolyn's face melted compassion. "Oh, love. If you knew half of my trespasses in this life..." She shook her head. "Suffice it to say I would be the one losing you." She took Narcissa's hand, uncurled the fingers from the linen. "You can tell me nothing that will erase the truth of you, Narcissa Malfoy: that you are the best witch I've ever known."

Cissa teared anew and Carolyn looked away, grimaced at the sentimentality between them. "Besides," she groused. "I need you. You make me...a better witch."

Narcissa stared at her friend. Absorbed the impact of her revelation. "Do you mean that?" Carolyn nodded reluctantly, finally catching the eyes that darkened ominously to blue-black. "This will change your mind."

Carolyn's eyes flashed back to her. "Try me."

It already felt all was lost. _How much worse could it get? _She closed her eyes, and leapt. "I _am _ having an affair."

"I know that much. Open your eyes and look at me."

"I can't."

"Don't be ridiculous." She took hold of Cissa's chin, gently pushed her face up to the sun's glow. "Please, Cissa."

When her eyes opened, they glistened with unshed tears. "It's Draco." The confession slipped from her tongue like a soured candy, slick with spit, then sticky in her palm. Too heavy to hold, but glued as though charmed to her hand. She couldn't shake it away.

Carolyn seemed nonplussed. She blinked a few times, slowly. Finally, she spoke. Questioned disbelieving. "What do you mean, it's Draco?"

Narcissa swallowed bile. Felt numb head to toe. "Draco is my lover, Carolyn." The tears escaped, slid sobless down her crumbling alabaster visage.

Carolyn settled in her chair, expressionless. "I see." She bit at her bottom lip, concern finding its way onto her features. "Thank you for saying it aloud."

Narcissa's forehead creased. Her mouth worked charmingly for a moment, stuttering. "Wh - what?"

"I wasn't certain." Carolyn nodded, leaned forward in her chair. "I had a fairly good idea, but it wasn't absolute."

"You _knew_?!" Cissa's chair complained loudly, scraped against the cobbles as she rose and whirled from the table. "How could you -"

"Oh, _please _Narcissa!" Carolyn grabbed her arm, tugged her face to face. "I had some idea _something_ was awry the day I mentioned Nico and your son stormed off like a jealous, rampaging suitor. Not to mention all the other little things."

"Little things?"

Carolyn calmly produced her cigarette case and wand-lit a long clove. "The way he looks at you - or you at him, for that matter. How you touch each other." She shrugged gamely. "Quite obvious if one knows how to read body language."

"B-body lang -"

"It's muggle psychology. Don't worry about it." A lengthy exhale. Carolyn looked at the sweating martini pitcher. "And there's something else."

Cissa's voice was impossibly tiny. "What?" _What else could there possibly be?_

"Sit." Narcissa complied dumbly. Numbly. Carolyn leveled a matter of fact gaze at her. "I followed you."

"Followed…" Things simply weren't coalescing for the Malfoy witch. Shock was a bitch.

Carolyn smirked. "I saw you and Draco pass the cottage a few nights ago. Early. Around six or so. I was curious. I followed you."

"Oh."

The smirk - so sharp - softened to a sentiment. "You were beautiful together. Dancing. I knew then."

"Then?" Narcissa asked. "You knew what?"

"For such a brilliant witch…" Carolyn flicked her fag impatiently. "I suspected you were lovers, stupid. The way you danced that night -"

"We weren't." Narcissa interrupted.

"Hm?"

"We weren't lovers." She colored slightly. Clutched her serviette in her lap. "At least not exactly then."

"Oh." There was genuine surprise in Carolyn's tone. A rare thing. "Well, you dance like -"

"Yes, apparently." Narcissa sighed heavily. "It was later. But the same night." Her expression went pained. "What am I to do? What have I done?"

"Well, I didn't follow you back to your bungalow, so I can't say for certain, but it sounds like you fucked your son somewhere in the interim between then and now." Carolyn had a devilish - or delightful - way of stating the obvious at the most inopportune moments.

Narcissa groaned, held her head in her hand. "I _know_! I know what I did! And I know who he is." She muttered, glared suddenly at Carolyn. Her tears began afresh. "I shouldn't have told you, damn you."

"Stop this." Carolyn stood this time - only to kneel before her crying companion. "I'm already damned, witch, and it sounds like you are, too. But all this self-flagellation shan't accomplish anything positive."

"_Is_ there a positive?" Narcissa scoffed. "I don't see one."

"What do you want?"

Cissa paused. Searched Carolyn's earnest face. "What?"

"What do you want, Narcissa? It's that simple." She shrugged. "Before you go stoke the flames of your own stake, ask yourself that question." Seeing Narcissa's thoughts turning inward, Carolyn rose, smoothed the flaring skirt of her mauve frock. "So. What do you want?"

Cissa looked helplessly up at Carolyn. "I...I want to be happy. For the first time in…" She trailed off. "I just want to be happy. And I want Draco to be happy. And Lucius!" She added quickly.

"Whoa there, seeker." Carolyn put steadying, comforting hands on Cissa's shoulders. "You can only make one person truly happy, you know. And that person is generally yourself. Although, I _doubt _the little dragon has any complaints?"

A furious flush washed over Narcissa's face. "Carolyn…" She was fighting a smile. _Only this witch has the ability to make me laugh in the midst of utter mental breakdown._

"Hm?" Carolyn didn't fight her own predatory grin. "Or...is the dragon not so little, after all?"

"Carolyn!"

"Sorry! Sorry." She patted Narcissa's head, drew it to her abdomen in a motherly embrace. She clucked love . "Oh my darling. I don't envy you this particular drama."

Cissa hugged Carolyn's hips, strangely but surely comforted. She murmured into Carolyn's soft belly. "I know. You shouldn't."

"Well, maybe a little envy," Carol admitted grudgingly. "But Draco is quite the specimen."

"Carolyn?"

"Hm?"

"That's disturbing."

"You're hardly in a position to criticise."

"Point taken." She pushed away and looked up. "Carolyn. Thank you."

A dismissive shrug. "Well, I can hardly be a hypocrite, can I?" She stepped away with a final pat, produced her cigarette case again and sat. "Now. Wasn't there an offer for another martini?"

* * *

"Did you enjoy lunch?" Lucius was watching his ball soar through the air. His hand acted as a visor over his eyes. He was pleased the sun had decided to reveal itself. It was much easier to talk to his son with some shared constructive activity.

"I did." Draco nodded, squinting to see Lucius' ball bounce down the fairway. "Well... The shrimp were good, at least."

"I should have gotten the shrimp. Those scallops were like chewing on gillyweed. You're up." He wasn't terribly pleased with his ball's placement, but at least it wasn't in the rough this time.

"Right." Draco approached the golf bag they were sharing, perused the shiny clubs and woods peeking forth. "A um...a nine-iron, you think?"

"Here. Use the five." Lucius offered his own club.

Draco sighed, set the tiny white ball on the tiny white tee. _Ridiculous game. Shoulders straight. Knee bent. Elbow loose. Other elbow - Hell. I'd rather be dancing. _Focused on just getting through, he half-arsed the shot. Surprisingly, the ball hurtled directly down the fairway, coming to rest near his father's, but much nearer the hole. He couldn't help but smile.

"Huh." Lucius dropped his visor-hand. "Not bad."

"Thanks."

They set off down the fairway. "Enjoying your vacation, son?"

_Be nice. He's trying. _Remembering his mother's plea, Draco answered positively. "I am. It's been...relaxing." Lucius didn't hide his surprise or his pleasure. "What about you, father?"

"It's been better than I imagined. I've found something to interest me, I suppose." He smirked at Draco. "Just like you."

_You've no idea. _"Good."

At the thirteenth hole, Lucius lined up his putt. "What did you think of my muggle associates today?"

Draco pursed his lips. _Diplomacy. _"They seemed nice enough. A bit dry for my tastes." _Complete twats._

Lucius chuckled. Putted. Sunk it. Smiled. "Well. They're all my age. Or older. Far less exciting than your film-watching friends, I'm afraid."

"True." Draco lined up his own putt. He had to confess there was something amazingly gratifying about the thunk of the little white ball settling into its hole. He sighed in mild pleasure.

"You're damned good at this." Lucius said grudgingly.

Draco shrugged. "Makes me miss quidditch."

Lucius nodded. He seemed keen to take a rest, leaned against the golf bag and arranged his clubs. "I'm pleased you spent time with your mother while I was away. I worried she would be lonely."

A sick satisfaction settled in his belly. He dropped the five-iron into the bag and ignored a growing erection. "Mum and I have our fun, I suppose."

"Excellent." Lucius looked at him. "I'm leaving again tomorrow. Found out at lunch earlier. Going with Mr. Fonteneau and his accountant to take a look at some land we hope has development potential. It's priced to move quickly, so we want to get in a good bid. And then we intend to visit our existing investments. See where they stand in marketability."

"Have you told mum, yet?" He hoped his excitement didn't show in his tone. Hoped he seemed genuinely disinterested in his father's travels.

"I'll tell her when we get back. Wanted to be certain of the plans first."

"Good idea." Draco gestured to the next hole and they set off, unhurried. "Any idea how long you'll be away this time?" _Completely casual. Just curious. _

Lucius stopped. Faced his son with some concern. "Well, that's where I may need your help. You see...this trip will be significantly longer than the last. At least a week this time." He spread his hands as if currying great favour. "I don't want to upset her again, or to make her think that I'm attempting to avoid -"

"Father." Draco interrupted gently. "I think she'll be pleased you've communicated your intent for once. The duration of your absence is secondary to her knowledge and feeling of involvement."

Lucius grinned. Squeezed Draco's shoulder affectionately. "You think like her, you know. And I mean that as a compliment. Keep up this sort of advising and I'll be coming to you for marriage guidance on a regular basis."

Draco laughed, buoyed by a sudden and great anticipation. "Please don't, father."

Lucius raised a finger. "You could charge by the hour, you know. Muggles pay exorbitant amounts of money for other muggles to tell them how to fix their marriages. Or their selves, for that matter."

"True. True."

"I just want to be certain you will...keep her entertained for a week. Have some ideas. Don't let her get lonely. And…" Lucius didn't hide a scowl. "Don't let her spend too much time with Carolyn?"

Draco muted his grin to a reassuring smile. He had _plenty _of ideas, and the erection he'd tried to ignore earlier now refused to be slighted. "I understand, father." He pointed. "I see some muggles up ahead."

"Well." Lucius shouldered the golf bag. "We'll simply have to play through."

* * *

The radio station was scratchy at best, but provided ample background noise for Draco's thoughts. He listened to the muggle man's singular voice as he kicked up broken bits of smooth flat slate.

_Waitin', watchin' the clock, it's four o'clock, it's got to stop_

_Tell him, take no more, she practices her speech_

_As he opens the door, she rolls over..._

_Pretends to sleep as he looks her over_

He was skipping the flat bits of slate across the restless pool with great success, hearing them smack against stone wall behind. Waiting for his father to leave, to be able to breathe again, to dance, to take his lover to bed. They'd endured another family outing together the night before and lived to tell the tale - took in another film. Draco couldn't even remember it.

He'd sat beside his mother, focused on the bare skin of her arm rubbing the bare skin of his arm. Felt every tense breath she breathed as if he was breathing it himself. Then he'd seen his father's hand curl over hers and his heart had frozen for a moment. He withdrew his arm.

_She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man..._

_She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man..._

_Can't find a better man_

_Can't find a better man_

_Ohh…_

True his lover was his mother, but who could criticise? No one knew. It was his first secret, and he coveted it with the same passion he used to covet her. Oddly, the same passion fueled his avoidance. If he knew what she felt, what she thought… It could only be hurt. She was often too practical to comprehend, and he couldn't imagine himself a part of her long-term pragmatic plan.

_Talkin' to herself, there's no one else who needs to know..._

_She tells herself, oh…_

So what was he then, he wondered. What was he to the matron of his heart? He skipped another stone. This one arced high, took out a passing dragonfly. His mouth dropped open in surprise. _Couldn't do that again if I tried._

"Good shot!"

He whirled, nearly lost his footing on the wet moss. "You can't be serious?" He asked the visitor disbelieving. "What are _you _doing here?"

_Memories back when she was bold and strong_

_And waiting for the world to come along..._

_Swears she knew it, now she swears he's gone_

Carolyn chuckled over the rock ballad, used her surprisingly delicate wand to lower the volume, but she didn't silence it entirely he noted. "Not who you were expecting?" She lifted her long grey frock over dense ferns to approach him. "Or not who you were hoping for?"

_She lies and says she's in love with him, can't find a better man..._

_She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can't find a better man..._

The annoying witch leaned into his space, plucked a bit of leaf detritus from his rolled linen sleeve. "Am I intruding on a secret romantic liaison, perhaps?"

_Can't find a better man_

_Can't find a better man_

_Yeah…_

Draco scoffed. Bent to retrieve another piece of broken slate, to move away from her unsettling warmth, to hide his guilty blush. "Hardly." He moved toward the stereo, intended to turn up the volume again - urge the encroacher to leave.

"Hoping for your mum, perhaps?"

His hand shook violently and instead of raising the volume, he clumsily silenced the stereo entirely. It tumbled from the felled tree into a clutch of honeysuckle. "What did you say?" He spat. He leaned on the log for support, cut violent eyes at Carolyn.

"You heard me, Draco." Unmoved by his evident fury - or fear - she sat on the log. "I know."

He stood, loomed over the now-seated woman. "You know what?"

"No, _you_ know what!" She insisted loudly. "Your mother confided in me about your dalliances, dah-ling. I. Know. Draco."

The world split in twain, issuing a bright ringing in his ears. A shard of inhuman heat stabbed from the base of his spine upward to pierce his throat. It galvanised his voice. "She wouldn't!" He snapped. But obviously she had. "You must have -"

"Oh, _please _vilify me a little harder, young master Malfoy. Perhaps I'll turn green and melt next rainfall."

"So why've you come here then? To use it against me somehow? Or just to torture me?" He demanded. "No small animals to kick on your way up?"

"Not at all. I kicked quite a few." She grinned. "I came here, Draco, for two reasons. One is the simple fact you will want - no, _need _- someone to talk to about this as surely as your mother did, and I think she and I both prefer it be someone you can trust."

"And I can trust _you_?!" He laughed, noted the mania creeping into his tone and attempted to calm it.

"Yes." She answered simply. "You can." Her face, normally not so pinched as one who'd tasted the lemon but more tart as the lemon itself, fell beneath a veil of seriousness that gave him pause. "I want to tell you something. Something I haven't even told your mother. At least not yet." She kicked at a clump of sweet forest earth. "Hell, I've never told a soul this."

"Then why me?"

"Quid pro quo?" She shrugged. "I ask for your trust, so I give you mine."

He blinked. Relaxed just a little. "Fine, then."

She took a deep breath. "Your mother and I have a few things in common. Both unhappily married. Both breathtakingly beautiful." Draco rolled his eyes, but sat a few inches away from her just the same. "And apparently both prone to the hopeless sort of love - or lust - that's bred only by familiarity."

"Huh?" _Why can't she just speak plain? Like a wizard would?_

She smiled gently. "I only ever truly loved one wizard, Draco. And I loved him with all my heart. Believe it or not. I used to have one." She steeled herself, looked straight ahead where a shaft of high afternoon sunlight set diamonds on the lagoon's eddies. "He was my brother. My twin brother. Carmine."

Draco regarded the witch with narrowed eyes, as if gauging her sincerity. Finding it authentic, he dropped a wall. Just one wall, but a wall. "How long?"

She turned to him, made it quite evident from body and expression she meant to hide nothing. "How long was our affair? It started during our Hogwarts years. Continued until… Well, until his death."

A brief black bird fluttered through Draco's imaginings. _Someday mother will die. _He shivered. Shook off that particular terror, tucked it into a pocket of denial for lean times. "When did he die?"

"He was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. Fighting on the wrong side. He lacked the courage to make the difficult decisions you and your parents made. The decision to do the right thing."

The Battle was still a pus-filled sore for Draco. One that festered deeply in his dermis. He knew one day he would have to open the wound, drain it of the sickness. But not today. _Just not today. _Today was already too much. "You weren't there?"

"I was already serving my time here, I'm afraid. One of the fortunate ones saved from death and decision."

"Did you get to see him? Before..." He waved at nothing.

"He visited me twice during my stint in Azkaban. Then yes, once here. Before…" She waved at nothing, too. Or she waved away approaching sadness. "He was...perfect. Probably as perfect as you are to your mother. And as she is to you?"

Draco nodded. Perhaps this witch truly did understand. _Fuck. Perhaps she understands even better than I do. _"I do love her."

"I certainly believe you."

"Do you think she loves me?"

Her red lips pursed. "I imagine so. More than can even be expressed in words."

Suddenly all the questions arose, bubbled to the surface like the Kraken called. "How did you come to terms with it? Who knew? And how did you...marry? Wasn't he -"

She held up a hand. "Shhhh. It was hell. Coming to terms, as you stated. so much self-doubt, self-loathing and jealousy. And then we grew up. It only got more difficult. There are...so many expectations that come with being a pureblood girl. Or boy. I _had _to marry. So did Carmine. And unfortunately Draco, you will be expected to marry, too - and produce another pureblood to heap your own expectations upon."

"Never."

"Never say never." She laughed ruefully. "He gave me away, you know. At my wedding. Father was dead already. And after my dismal wedding night, it was Carmine I went to." A sad smile. Shining as they were with unshed tears, Draco realized how very pretty her grey-green eyes were. Or perhaps her dress simply brought the colour out…

She stood abruptly, as if the nakedness of their discussion was finally too pressing. "Carmine made my life brighter when it was at its dimmest. That is what you do for your mother, and what she does for you. It's a most difficult kind of love, Draco. And a most desperately guarded secret." Hesitantly, she reached out. Stroked his face. "I envy you, and I don't. Either way, I wish you both happiness and the best of luck."

She made to go, began stepping over the dense ferns again. "When you want to talk more, come find me."

"Carolyn."

She didn't look back. "Yes?"

"Thank you." It didn't hurt as badly as he'd imagined to say the words.

"You're welcome. Insufferable prat."

He smirked. "Wait! You said there were two reasons you came up here."

"Oh, yes!" Now she did turn, her sweet poison smile back with a vengeance. "Your father left about...oh...I'd say an hour ago. Just thought you'd like to know."

He leapt from the log as though it had turned liquid fire. "You wicked, wicked witch." He growled as he raced past her. He heard her laughter echoing behind him, growing fainter as he ran faster, grew closer to that which would make his life - if only for a moment - so much brighter.

**AN: **Thanks all for your patience and reviews and follows and favorites - allilask, Nerea, lilian, Marta, StoryWriter...you guys are so awesome. And always thanks to the dragon for your ever insightful advice - and for narrowing down this chapter's musical selection. It's Pearl Jam, for those of you who don't know. The track is _B__etter Man _from the album _Vitalogy. _I'm a big fan. cough*Understatement*cough Also a brief thanks to some golfers who gave me tons of tips I didn't even use: David, Lewis, Jake and Dougie. Next chapter sees the cat away again. How will the mice play? I'm open to suggestions.


	13. Gauntlet Thrown

Gauntlet. Thrown.

The door banged shut in its frame, scaring the hell out of the witch standing in the kitchen. "Draco!" He stood staring at her, tense and panting. His hands were clenched as if he was fighting against gripping something too tightly. She shivered. Swallowed. Licked her dry lips. "Your father's just left."

"I heard."

"Oh?" She had the presence of mind to set the teapot on the counter before she discovered that the thing his hands had fought against gripping was herself. "Oh!"

He lifted and spun her easily, devoured her neck after depositing her on the little white breakfast table. "Dracodracodraco…"

"Gods, I've missed you," he growled. Her fingers tangled in his hair. They kissed open-mouthed, talking sloppily into each others' mouths. His hands shook as he tried desperately to remove her soft jumper without tearing it or popping its buttons.

When he finally freed her breasts from the confines of cashmere and brassiere, she pushed them wantonly into his hands and mouth. "Draco," she gasped. "Take me to bed!"

"I'll take you right here."

"Excellent!"

He rucked her skirt as she tore at his trousers. They worked efficiently if not smoothly, disrobing just enough so that - by the generous afternoon light pouring through corner picture windows - they put themselves back together the only way they knew how.

"Ohhhh, yes darling!" Narcissa draped an arm around his neck, used the other to prop and arch herself. Created the best angle for his thrusts to produce the fastest results.

Draco also braced against the table, one long arm a bastion and the other clutching her close to him round the small of her back. Her angle was salacious, perfect for bringing that little bounce to her tits that he adored. Firm they were, shaped like the ones on Greek marble statues, with perfect rosy nipples.

He tried to reign himself in, to check his lust, but… "_Fuck_, you feel so goddamn good mum! Ungh!" The table complained loudly, jarred across the floor with each powerful thrust.

"You too, baby! Oh Draco, I'm close!" Her cheeks were pink with the truth of her statement. She felt the heat, the tickle and tingle building. She pulled one foot up onto the table, splayed herself lewdly, shallowed the brush of his cock inside her. _Perfect._ Beneath them, the table's wide flat feet had lodged against an uneven floor slat. This resulted in a loud, awkward hammering against the floor.

Draco was close, too - close to orgasm, and as he'd only just realised - close to the corner window. They'd moved nearly two feet perhaps, and now the table leapt upward as his hips pumped. The chilled edge of painted iron brushed his bollocks frequently, providing a grounding, cooling shock compared to the volcanic vehemence of his mother's tightening cunt.

"Narcissa," he ground through gritted teeth. "Come, witch. Come with me!"

Her nails gouged his shoulder, mouth clamped his other. Her spit soaked the linen of his shirt. This timing was essential, animalistic, rare as a bright comet: a perfect union of universe and unleashed ardor sealing those more human than human together. Magic shuddered like their bodies and she milked his sticky want with her craven give.

Their foreheads met, mingling sweat. Kissing, they could taste the salty droplets still streaming. They panted softly, catching breath, touching quietly. "Not very romantic, I'm afraid," Draco apologised.

"We've days now for romance," Narcissa assured, stroking his jaw. He was softening, still inside her but reluctant to break their connection.

"Mmm, true." He nuzzled her cooling breasts. Embraced her tightly. "Merlin, I bloody missed you."

"I missed you, too." She cleared her throat, wiggled a bit. Draco took the hint. He helped her down, taking a moment to rub her raised leg before sliding it down his hip.

Parted at last, Narcissa gathered her scattered attire, holding her jumper over her nakedness. Draco held closed his trousers. "Let's have a bath," he suggested.

She chuckled, imagined the rest of their day would be spent naked and as one entity in some way or another. "Sounds nice." She took his free hand. "Come on then. My tub."

"Shall we dance tonight?" He asked off-handedly, undressing in the rising bath steam.

Narcissa was swirling bath salts into the water. "I suppose. I worry we may be scolded for our excessive absences."

"Huh." Draco couldn't resist the lure of her shapely hips. He pressed his already semi-erect cock into the crease of her arse. "We'll tell them you were busy. Had to spend time with your husband. Mm." She stood - back to his front - and his hands traveled to her breasts. "They think I'm cuckolding him already."

Narcissa grinned, put her hands over his. "You are, darling."

Draco kissed down the side of her neck until she pulled him into their bath. "I'm an awful bastard." He took the shampoo she handed him and set about washing her hair.

"You're not a bastard, son." She sighed contentedly as he worked her scalp.

"What are we going to do, mum?"

"Hmmmmm. Rinse me?"

He smiled and reached over the edge of the tub for the porcelain tureen. "That's not what I meant, you know." She arched far back, letting him pour warm water over her soapy locks. Her hair spread across the water and around them. He watched her wet breasts buoy and couldn't resist rubbing the peaked nipples. "I mean what are we going to do when we leave here. When we're home."

Narcissa pressed harder into his caress and moaned. "Can't we carry on like now?"

"What? Wait for my father to leave and act like criminals instead of lovers?"

"Would you rather tell him, Draco?" She slipped from his arms. Turned to face him. "And then what? Run away together? Mother and son? Do you think it would be so simple?"

"No!" Draco huffed. "I just…" He shook his head.

"Oh, lovie." Cissa caressed his face. "If it wasn't so -"

"Carolyn told me about her and her brother."

"Carolyn...and her brother?"

Draco remembered Carolyn telling him Narcissa didn't know. "She had an affair with her brother," he explained. Narcissa's face opened, showing her shock. "Carmine," Draco continued. "Did you know him?"

"I did." She whispered. "But I had no idea… Good goddess. Poor Carolyn." Quietly, she settled back against Draco, pulled his arms around her. "Did she say how long they -"

"Years." Draco tightened his embrace. "She said she loved him." He kissed her temple, nuzzled her neck. "I told her...I told her that I love you, too."

"You talked to Carolyn about us?"

"She came to talk to me."

"You love me?"

"Of course I love you! Mother, I - I know that we're… I know what we are. But if I can have you, if we can make each other happy, I want that. For both of us. For as long as we have. No matter what happens."

She was silent, but shaking. Draco knew she was crying. "Don't," he murmured against her wet head. "Please, Narcissa."

She turned suddenly. Pressed her forehead to his. She kissed him deeply. "No matter what happens," she vowed.

* * *

Lena was pleased to see them. She grinned widely when Draco walked into the clubhouse, and was quick to take Narcissa's hands. "We were worried we'd lost the two of you!"

"My fault," Narcissa explained sheepishly. "I injured my ankle."

"Of course you did." The droll commentary came from Vic. He'd walked in right behind them, purposefully brushing Draco's shoulder as he passed.

Draco's nostrils flared. His mother pressed a hand to his back, calling for calm. "I apologize, Vic. We should have sent word somehow." Wanting only to please her, Draco took the high road.

Vic was changing shoes. He waved off Draco's apology, unable to maintain resentment long. Much as he might hate to admit it, he'd come to like the Malfoys. "Well. You've missed a good deal of lessons. We're preparing for the Fall Ball now."

"Fall Ball?"

The look Vic gave them said, _If you'd been here, you'd know. _"In a few weeks, we'll put on the Tawel Fall Ball. It's the end of season celebration. There's a big dance contest." He shrugged. "Everyone wants to win."

"You will enter, right?" Lena leaned into Draco's space.

"Probably not," Draco answered. Narcissa gave him a sharp glance.

"There's a big tro-phyyyyyy," Lena sang.

Vic rolled his eyes. "Save it, Lena. They haven't shown up for lessons in over a week. They're not serious." It was a gauntlet subtly thrown down.

"I beg your pardon!" Narcissa drew up impressively. Draco stared at her. "I'll have you know my so -" Draco coughed loudly. "_Draco_ and I are _quite_ serious about dancing. And you'd better believe we'll be in your little contest. And furthermore, you'd better believe we'll win it." She all but poked Vic in the chest with every word, stepping closer until she was staring directly up at the taller muggle.

And Vic looked down at her. He smiled slowly. Suddenly thrust a clipboard before her face. "Then sign up."

She snatched the board. It took her a second to decipher the functionality of the muggle biro, but as soon as her thumb clicked it, Draco knew their combined fate was sealed. Vic took the sign-up list back with a self-satisfied grin. "Well, then. Guess you'd better get to work on your tango. It's the first dance in the contest, and you're both damned sloppy."

Lena punched play on the stereo, and Narcissa and Draco attacked the tango more fervently than ever.

* * *

"My legs are killing me." Narcissa complained. "And I don't even want to mention my feet."

"Your fault." Draco replied. "I can't believe you've gotten us into this...competition." They were slowly, achingly climbing the mountain trail to their bungalow.

"I want a big trophy."

Draco chuckled. "I'll give you a big -"

"Yes, yes, yes." Narcissa overrode him, smiling. "I'm sure you will. Ouch!" She stopped and bent to rub at the blister on her ankle. A shoe strap had rubbed the skin quite raw. "I admit I'm worried about the lifts, though. Perhaps we should start practicing _before _the next class. I would love to see Vic eat some delicious crow."

"Very well." Draco lifted her swiftly over one shoulder, ignoring her little cry of protest.

"This is hardly what I meant!" She swacked his bum. "Put me down, you prat."

"I will." Draco walked on. She was remarkably light. "On your bed."

She grunted. "_My_ bed?"

"Yes. It's bigger than mine and I've some wicked ideas."

"Oh." She flushed with the thought, wet at the possibilities. "Alright then."

They had days ahead for practicing their dancing. But this night would be for practicing something else entirely.

**AN:** I apologize for the brevity of this chapter. It's a bit of a bridge. Next chapter starts off with a bang (ahem), has a bit of a lift in the middle (har), and ends with some healthy competition. Oh, and Carolyn returns. Thanks everyone for reading, reviewing, favoriting and being patient!


	14. Try, Try Again

Try, Try Again

Narcissa held fast to the thick post at the head of her bed. Her fingers flexed with each of her son's leisurely thrusts, and she was nearly drunk with pleasure. They were in no hurry, having all night to lust and no one to check their activities. She found that this particular angle stroked that magical place inside her perfectly, and was more than content with the torturously slow pace Draco had set.

And he too was pleased with her angles. And curves. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, tested their weight. Slipped fingers over her slick belly to stroke her clit. He could bring her so close to the brink…

"I missed you so much."

"Ah!" She bit at his lips when he pulled her hair. "I did, too! Draco…"

"Mm. Hm?"

"Oh, I want to come now," she whispered. "Please. Faster?"

"Fuck thank the gods." He gripped her tighter to him, tugged her hair until he could watch her face as she unraveled. "Feels bloody good, Narcissa." His teeth ground as he rode out her release, bollocks swelling painfully at her animalistic growls.

Sensing his need, Narcissa transitioned swiftly. She pushed backward until she was bent properly, brought his pelvis flush with her arse. He felt deeper this way, harder, and she bit her pillow to muffle her cries.

Draco went feral. It was his first time with this position, and he was instantly enamored of it. Not thinking, instinctive, he smacked his mother's arse smartly. She squealed as his hand print reddened on the pale flesh. "Hell yes," he grunted. Squeezed her punished buttock harshly. The sound of his cock slapping fast in her wet, red cunt spurred him. "That's it, witch. Gods!" He came hard, moaning over her back.

They collapsed in the ruined bedding and Draco held fast to his lover. Her arms trembled from supporting their congress and he rubbed them, felt the cooling sweat there. "Brilliant," he rasped. Knackered. His thighs burned.

She turned in his arms. Kissed him. "I thought so, too."

"Sorry about the um…" He flapped his offending hand sheepishly.

"The spanking?" Her eyes sparkled.

He nodded. "I don't know what came over me."

She gave him a deeper kiss. "Darling. If I hadn't come already, I would have done so then. Perhaps we could...explore that avenue in greater detail later."

"I love you so much."

"I know." She chuckled. Snuggled closer to him. "I'm exhausted."

"Can't imagine why." His eyes were already closed.

Narcissa nudged him. "Let me go. I need the lav." She slipped from his sweaty embrace. Draco took his turn after her and soon they were settled naked beneath the sheets together. Drawing designs on his chest with a lazy finger, Cissa spoke softly. "I'm nervous about the lifts, Draco."

"We'll practice."

"Let's use a levitation charm."

"That would be cheating, mum."

"We're Slytherins!"

"And they're muggles!" But he was laughing. "Besides, I have an excellent idea for practicing. We'll go to the lagoon tomorrow to practice."

"Mm. I promised Carolyn tea tomorrow."

"Carolyn doesn't drink tea, mum."

"She says there will be tea. From Long Island, apparently." Narcissa yawned. "You should come."

"I can't imagine anything more awkward."

"Oh, I can." One last lingering kiss. "Good night, darling."

"G'night, mum."

Outside, the nightbird called.

* * *

"Come in, come in." Carolyn waved a hand, shooing the moistened Malfoys into her parlour. "But I'll warn you my mood is as dismal as the weather, so don't moon about and make googly eyes at one another or I may retch as wretches are wont to do."

"Right. No googly eyes." Draco nodded and they stepped out of the rain.

Carolyn - in a billowing brown kimono - slunked away and dropped onto a thick chaise. "There's tea. In the kitchen. Possibly. And no doubt spirits. Help yourselves." She propped her head on her elbow.

Narcissa followed, jerking her head toward the kitchen. Draco nodded at her, grateful for the reprieve. "I'll just see to tea, then," he murmured.

Narcissa drew her wand. Cast a quick drying charm on herself before arranging herself awkwardly in the heavy wicker papasan. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Carolyn sniffed. "Everything."

"You look like hell."

"You're too kind." But she couldn't contain a wry grin. "And you seem well fucked, which is a nice change."

Narcissa blushed, but volleyed. "And you seem… Well… Fucked. Which is _not _ a nice change. D'you want to talk?"

"It's that bloody girl is all." Carolyn picked at a strand of her unwashed hair.

"Jessica?"

"Jessica."

"What's she done?" Cissa asked.

Carolyn sighed. Closed her eyes tiredly. "I suppose it's what I've done." She rubbed at her face. "I sent her away. The silly thing…"

Narcissa blinked uncertainly. "I… I thought she was just one of your passing fancies?"

"She was! Or she was supposed to be." Carolyn moped. "Stupid girl. Stupid feelings."

"Oh." Cissa controlled a smile. "I see. Feelings from her? Or feelings from you. I suspect the problem is a bit of both?"

Silence for a time. In the kitchen, cabinet doors banged. Draco was obviously prolonging the preparation of tea. Finally, Carolyn spoke softly. "I always said after Carmine." She shook her head. "Never again."

"Yes, Draco mentioned Carmine." Narcissa did not expound, sensing that now was not the time. "Carolyn. From someone who is experiencing this realization first hand, please understand when I say you can't close your heart off forever."

"I miss him, Narcissa."

"I know."

"I'm bloody tired of being lonely."

"I know that, too."

"But she's so fucking young."

"I sympathise." Narcissa smirked. "But is it truly so awful?"

"You know what I mean." Carolyn smiled at her friend, but tears just lingered… "I hurt her, you know. She may not speak to me again. Much less…"

"Do you want her in your life, Carol?"

"Hell." Carolyn flicked her hand as if pushing the subject aside. "Yes. But that's _my_ problem. And for later. Though I thank you for the...perspective." Her eyes cut. "And what do you want, Don Juan Malfoy?"

Narcissa looked up to see Draco standing in the doorway. He scowled at Carolyn. "I can't find your tea."

Carolyn tisked and rose. "I'll get it." She squeezed Draco's arm as she passed. "Quite strapping, aren't you? Getting in some exercise?" She smirked at his hot blush.

Draco had learned to let Carolyn's taunting slide as the affection it was. Narcissa patted the cushioned wicker beside her. "Do sit, darling." He did, and brought her hand to his lips. She sighed when he kissed her fingers.

"Is Carolyn alright?" He asked quietly.

Narcissa ruffled his hair. Never failed to marvel at his surprising compassions. "She will be fine. It seems we're not the only ones currently daunted by impossible love."

"Is it impossible, then?"

His eyes were so earnest… She swallowed. "Impossible to resist." He smiled at that, leaned toward her. Their lips barely brushed when Carolyn breezed back into the sunroom.

"Here. Long Islands." She set an icy pitcher on the table before them. Produced a few tumblers. The Malfoys stared warily at the beverage as their hostess poured. "Afraid I'm fresh out of tea of the hot variety." She took a long draught of her own glass. They watched her graceful throat work. Then a hearty sigh. "This is better anyway."

Draco shrugged and raised his glass. "Cheers."

The drinks were strong. In moments, Narcissa was pink-faced and giggling at Draco's spot-on impressions of Vic. Carolyn could barely catch her breath. "He's so very _serious_!" Draco said. "The first night I showed up for lessons he pulled me aside and said 'Son - look me in the eye and tell me you want to dance.'"

"Did you?!" Carolyn wiped at her eyes.

"I did." He nodded emphatically. "I was afraid of him, I think. I hadn't seen that much intensity since the Dark Lord had me…" He trailed off quite suddenly - as if surprised at his own words. His eyes shot to his mother who stared wide-eyed - sobered and gauging his intent. Even Carolyn had gone quiet, though her anticipation seemed more knowing somehow. The rain had ceased, so there was only their waiting to hear.

The fruity libation had gone bitter on his tongue. He cleared his throat, rubbed unconsciously at his sleeve-hidden Dark Mark. "Sorry," he whispered.

Narcissa blinked, looked between Draco and Carolyn uncertainly. "It's alright, darling. Do you -"

"I think I'll go back to the cabin." He stood. The alcohol made him a bit unsteady on his feet.

"Draco." She made to stand as well, but he stopped her.

"It's alright, mum. I think I'll have a lie-down before practice tonight."

What could she say? She watched him go. Carolyn watched her watch him. When he was out of sight, the darker witch spoke softly. "Bound to happen sooner or later, you know."

"What?"

"He's got to come to terms, Narcissa. With everything that happened during the war." She pulled her cigarette case and lit two fags at once with her wand. Passed one to Cissa. "I assume he hasn't talked much about it?"

"We...we don't talk about that, no."

"Riiight." Carolyn nodded. "Perhaps you should."

Narcissa set her drink on the table and rubbed her forehead. "I don't know how to help him. Or my husband. I look at them both and feel so lost." And just that simply, it all came rushing to the surface. The ice melted and the cold flood swirled and Narcissa surrendered. The tears surprised her with their quick thickness. "I know it was terrible for him but I barely saw him! Bellatr - my sister she kept me from him. I knew what they were doing. I knew they were...grooming him. That he had to atone for Lucius' failures. But I had no idea they would _mark him!_ He was just a boy! And I'd tried so hard already, Carolyn! On my _knees_ I begged Severus and for _what_? My boy was already destroyed!"

The sob hurt. Carolyn watched the crumbling. She knew there was no real comfort to be offered. That hugs and words were trivial in the face of such tragedy. She reached for the still-burning fag between Cissa's shaking fingers and set it in the tray on the table. Then she levitated a box of tissue to her friend's lap and sat back to finish her own fag and wait out the storm.

* * *

Draco was not at the cabin. She couldn't bear the silence of it, head throbbing from impending sobriety and spent emotion. So she climbed on, up to their secret solace: the fall and the lagoon.

Indeed he was there. Standing shirtless in a golden ray of sunlight shining through the dense green canopy. He must have heard her approaching. His brow creased when he turned. "Mum. Are you alright?"

She imagined she looked a sight. "I'm fine." His belly jerked when she placed a hand on it. "You, darling?"

He kissed her. "I will be. Won't I?" She cupped his cheek, smiling softly. "I'm sorry I left so abruptly. I just…"

"Shhh." She kissed him again. "I know." They swayed for a while, foreheads touching, silent music guiding their dance. "Draco. If you ever want to talk about it, you know I'll listen. And I won't say a word."

He held his arm out then, palm up. His Dark Mark - now a faded black - was stark in the sun's gleam. "It will never wash away."

Her fingers stroked the ink lovingly. "It's on your arm, Draco. Not your soul. You escaped that fate. Thank the goddess."

"Thanks to you." He closed his eyes. "He told me he would kill you. I believed him." Narcissa fought fresh tears, felt the pain in her son's tense frame. She knew he spoke of Voldemort. Of the night he took the Mark.

Her hand closed around his. "Draco."

"There were four of them. The Carrows. Yaxley. That fucking werewolf. He said they would…" His hand tightened on hers, other arm pulling her closer. "He said he would watch them… That even your sister wouldn't stop them. And that they would make me watch, too." He broke. Curled into her. He was so heavy they dropped to their knees in soft moist moss. "I believed them and I let them do it. It burned like hell and I thought I would die but I couldn't bear the thought of you… Of them… Gods, Narcissa! _Mother!_"

It seemed there were always tears. That they were never truly cried out. She clutched him so tightly. As if they were re-inventing the embrace. "I'm so sorry, baby," she cooed. "I'm so fucking sorry…"

She rocked him and soothed him, petted his hair and kissed his face, tasted the salt of his remorse and shared her own. _Perhaps this is how it is washed away_, she thought. _Perhaps it is a start._

Gradually, they calmed. Their crying ceased. Draco sat back on his haunches, thighs and knees suffering. He pulled his mother between his legs, not ready to let her go. "We're a mess."

"I know." She sniffled loudly. "But we're getting better, I think."

He nodded. "True. Still need to work on those lifts, though."

Narcissa chuckled. Only Draco would be thinking of dancing after an emotional breakdown. "Yes. Yes, we do."

He stood suddenly. "Come on then. Undress. I've got an idea."

"What?"

He was unbuttoning his trousers as casually as if he was in his cozy, private bedroom. "Undress," he repeated. "We're going swimming." And perhaps it was due to the lingering effects of the drink. Or the heat. Or the mental exhaustion. But whatever the reason, she was compelled to join him.

The water of the lagoon was freezing. She squealed when she stepped in. Not to mention the current-smoothed stone bottom was a bit slippery. But the water was clear and clean. She could see the occasional fish dart past, the graceful tendrils of water-plant beckoning. "Draco, this is insane!"

He pulled her further out. "It's brilliant!" He argued. "You'll see!"

"It's freezing!"

"You get used to it. Like this." Then he simply fell backward into the drink, submerging himself in the chill.

"I must be losing my damned mind," she murmured. She dove after him. They frolicked in the water for a while, acclimating to the temperature, teasing each other. Until Draco found the underwater ledge he sought.

It was a few yards away from the fall, and when they stood on it, the water reached Draco's ribs and Narcissa's breasts. She saw his intent now and had to admit it was sound reasoning. "Ready?" He asked, flicking water from his eyes.

"I think so," she answered. They were practically shouting over the fall's dull roar.

He stared at her a moment. "You're gorgeous right now."

"I look like a drowned thing. Let's do this."

He laughed. "Come on then."

She took a few quick steps, the water impeding her movements just enough, supporting her balance. Draco's fingers were slick but his grip was sure. He distributed his hold evenly - as they'd been taught - and Narcissa felt herself rising up, up -

But the slick stone claimed their victory.

Draco lost his balance and they tumbled backward into the water. Swimming, spluttering and laughing, they righted themselves. "Try, try again," Cissa gasped.

"Right." This time, his feet held firm, but his left arm wobbled. Narcissa didn't help the situation, arms pinwheeling when she felt herself tilted. "Woah, woah, woah!" And again they splashed into defeat.

"Alright, alright." They took longer to catch their breaths this time. Fighting smiles just the same. "This is it," Draco said. "I can feel it."

"Can you?" She grinned and stepped. He grabbed her. Lifted. She tensed, spread her arms…

Almost.

Again, they splashed gracelessly. It took about six tries before they got it right. But when they did, Draco whooped with success. He lowered her with shaking arms and she held him fast.

"Oh, sweet goddess we did it!"

"You're damn right we did!" He kissed her soundly. "Let's do it again!" She nodded and they managed four more successful lifts before Draco's arm muscles simply refused to cooperate and Narcissa's fingers and toes were numb from cold. They swam to a cluster of smoothed roots - a sort of natural ladder. Holding to it, they kissed, passions not dulled by emotion or exhaustion.

Draco helped her navigate the shiny wet footholds and soon they collapsed on their spread out clothing, content to warm in the high afternoon's sun. "We're going to win," Draco said certainly.

Narcissa chuckled. Rubbed her cool body against his. "Yes, we are." She stroked his cock to quick life. "Right now, in fact."

He tumbled her, pushing her knee up as he kissed his way down her torso. She got a good grip in his wet hair, hissing when his tongue slipped into her cool cunt. "Oh, Draco!" He heated her up nicely. They made love unashamed in the moist moss, matching the fall's roar with their own. Cleansed by cold water. Baptised by hot tears. A tangle of ink and essence to match the roots 'neath the forest floor. One with each other and the earth...

**AN: **Thanks all for your patience with this tale. I find myself working a great deal lately, and when writing time rolls around, I have to tend too many irons if the fanfiction fire! A particular shout-out to StoryWriter and Aya for their kind and encouraging words lately. And if you haven't yet, be sure to check out Aya's new piece - Lessons in Magic. If you're reading Narco now, you'll love the delicious little deviance she has to offer. And always to Narcissa's Dragon who also has some new goodies posted, namely The Snake and the Lion. (No, it's not Dramione. Thank the goddess.) Next chappy is the last, my friends. It's been ever so much fun. Playlist is now posted on my profile and I hope you enjoy it.


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